With My Soul Clenched
by DreamFlight
Summary: An alternate season 2. What if Angel wasn't the only vampire with a soul and a Slayer to help? Spuffy.
1. Prologue

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_A little plot-bunny whispered in my ear and insisted I write this story rather than my current WIPs. These days I follow my muse. Hope you enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. No really, penniless student here. Even the title is borrowed from Pablo Neruda._

**Prologue**

France, 1995

They were picnicking just outside a small French hamlet when it happened. The taste of blood was still fresh on Spike's tongue, the spicy scent of fear still hanging in the air, as his dark princess spun dreamily across the moonlit hillside in a dark parody of the opening scene of that poofy movie with the bird who did all the bloody singing. Spike leaned back lazily, enjoying the sight of his lover spinning beneath the stars, a tickle of blood still winding its way down her dark lips to stain her chin with crimson. He let a contented sigh slip across his lips, as he brought a cigarette up to his lips and let it dangle for a moment as he palmed through the pockets of the black leather coat he had won away from the American Slayer in search of his lighter.

It was a perfect moment: the bodies that now rested somewhere down the hillside were silent and still, the night sky hung dark and beautiful above the vampire lovers and their gruesome picnic scene. The moonlight gave the world a silver glow. It was… effulgent. No other word in Spike's vast vocabulary could quite capture the moment. At least, until everything changed.

Within an instant, the air went from still to stormy, a sudden electric tingle running through Spike's senses, as his head spun around to face a young woman, dark hair whipping in the wind. "Asa sa fie, acum." she murmured, the two glowing spheres she held flashing brightly, long before Spike had a chance to react.

He woke to pain. The sky was just growing light above him, giving him some small measure of comfort. Though the screaming and sobbing that echoed across the hillside to his ears snatched it away just as fast. He knew that voice better than his own. Someone or something was hurting his dark princess… but as much as he wanted to move, the pain enveloped him. It was then that he realized that the sobbing he could hear wasn't coming from Drusilla. It was coming from him.

It took an act of true love to pull Drusilla out of the path of the rising sun. Mostly because he couldn't justify moving himself out of the sun's deadly course. Remorse, guilt, shame, horror, and countless other emotions that had been buried for over a century were playing games with his head and his heart. Death, in which he had revelled just short hours ago, was suddenly a terrible crime, and the wanton joy he and Dru had taken in it was a bitter medicine that tortured his newly reclaimed soul.

They spent the day in a hovel of a shack, Spike's arms wrapped tightly around Drusilla's frail form as she screamed and cried until she was hoarse. Only love kept Spike from contemplating his demise. Without him Dru would be lost and alone. And that would just be one more thing his ruined soul could not take. And so the daylight hours passed slowly, in aching pain and torment, each moment worse than the next, as the memories poured over the pair.

Sometime just before sunset, the dark-haired woman returned to the hillside and somehow traced the vampire pair to the shack Spike had retreated them to. Spike watched the woman enter the shack with dull eyes. "Why?" he croaked, his own voice little more than a tortured whisper.

The woman turned to the dishevelled pair and where they sat huddled into each other on the dirty floor. "Because you're murderers." She replied matter-of-factly. "Because the elders messed up." She turned her head then and set to work doing something or another in the ruins of what might have once been a kitchen, "They cursed Angelus for his crimes, but left Drusilla to plague the earth. And you." She turned back to the pair then, holding a wooden stake in each of her hands. "I imagine that these will be used appropriately."

Spike watched her dispassionately as she placed the stakes gently onto the dirt floor within reach of the vampires. "Who are you?" He murmured softly, his natural curiosity re-emerging from the emotionally emptied husk of his self.

He saw then the pity in the woman's eyes. Their depth and the grudging respect and admiration they held when they observed Spike's tight grip around the deathly still form of his beloved. "Jenny." She said softly. "Though I was born Janna Kalderash."

"One of the gypsies." He replied then, a certain understanding in his voice. An acceptance that perhaps this was the only way for it to end. He watched her leave with a quiet nod. He watched the light drain out of the sky through a crack in a shuttered window. He watched the wooden stakes as they lay on the earthen floor. And he waited for Drusilla, as he so often had before.

"You have to be strong." She said finally; just after Spike spotted a star emerge in the space of sky revealed by the crack in the shuttered window. "You have always been a knight. Great purpose awaits you." She sighed in her theatrical way. "The stars are calling me home but they say you can't come yet. No tea for my William. No sugar. Only little marshmallow clouds and sunshine that burns." She turned her face to him then, a sad smile lifting the corners of her lips, "No rest for the wicked."

Spike had no reply for her. Nothing beyond a gentle kiss placed lightly upon her forehead. "We'll get through this, luv," he murmured softly, "if Angelus can survive as the great souled wanker, we can pull something together too." He tightened his arms around her. "You'll see, pet, it'll be alright." He pointedly avoided looking at the deadly sharp splinters of wood just inches from where they sat. "We'll get through."

"You'll get through." She whispered, her voice soft as a kitten's fur. "You and daddy were always so strong. Protectors." There was a long pause. "I'm not the one to protect anymore. The darkness calls me away and the sunshine wants you to play."

"Dru," Spike said firmly, pulling away from her. "No one is going to go play in the sunshine."

She smiled at him again, the same sad face that had snuck glances of him all throughout the day. "I'm glad you say that, my William. Because you have to live."


	2. Chapter One

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Some lines borrowed from the episode "School Hard."_

_Chapter One_

Sunnydale, 1996

Buffy was waiting in line at the Espresso Pump for a double chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream when she first saw him. Pale blonde hair made almost white by the sunlight flashing off of it, matched with a blue sweater and a black leather coat that hung casually over the back of the chair beside him. An old book was balanced in the tight grip of his impossibly graceful fingers. He was delectable. Or he would have been, Buffy told herself, if she wasn't already head-over-heels for a certain tall, dark, and handsome… vampire. Who could never sit in the sunshine doing something as mundane as read a book. Buffy sighed, perhaps just a little longingly.

"Double chocolate mocha with extra whip!" A lanky boy hollered out across the shop, forcing the bright blonde to raise his gaze from the book he was holding. For a moment pale blue eyes met Buffy's, and forced a small gasp to escape her lips as they caught her gaze. A blush crept across Buffy's face as she hurriedly looked away and snatched the suddenly embarrassingly fattening beverage from the countertop behind her. She glared darkly at the lanky barista. Just her luck for mega-embarrassment at the hands ofpimple-faced vampire bait in front of the cutest guy she'd seen in Sunnydale.

With a rapid pace, she attempted to exit the shop as quickly as possible, rushing past the table of the blue-eyed stranger, and somehow managing to catch the leg of a chair just as she was heading past. "Damnit," she squeaked as her cup went flying into the air as she stumbled to keep her balance. "Stupid Slayer skills my ass…" she thought, attempting to extricate herself from the offending chair leg before the cup had a chance to hit the floor.

"Your coffee, pet?" A silken voice cut into her mental reproach. Buffy found her gaze lifting excruciatingly slowly, already knowing that this particular voice, and that particular accent could only belong to… those eyes. The blue eyes that met hers were sparkling, the dark eyebrows above them quirked amusedly. Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Uh, yeah." She stood up, the chair leg suddenly ridiculously easy to avoid. "Thanks." She said lamely, kicking herself all the while.

"Not a problem, pet." The stranger said, a slight smirk twisting his lips. "Extra whip?" He prompted as he passed her the cup.

Buffy felt a frown crease her forehead. Who was this guy to comment on her beverage choices? "Well, what's all the training for if a girl can't splurge now and then?" She quipped back.

"Training?" The guy replied back, his British accent beginning to grate on Buffy's nerves. Now he was asking questions! Never mind that it was her fault she slipped.

"Yeah, I'm… uhh… training for... fitness." She stumbled over the lie, those blue eyes were really just too disarming and the smirk? Infuriating. "Look at the time," she said suddenly, "I've got a thing." She headed for the door, one eye on the lookout for any more evil chairs, "Thanks for the catch!"

It never dawned on Buffy to question the speed the man would have had to move at to get from his chair to the flying cup in time to catch it.

* * *

"And he just laughed at you?" Willow urged.

"Smirked. He smirked at me." Buffy moaned from where her head was buried beneath her arms. "And he was so good looking."

"Not talking about Angel again, are you?" Xander's voice cut in from above. "Cause if you are, I might just have to go find another table to study at."

"You mean read comic books at while pretending to study?" Willow replied with a smile, as Xander set his books and backpack down beside the table in the library. "And where else could you do that without getting teased mercilessly?"

"Still," Xander replied with a grin, "If Angel's looks are the topic au jour I'm outta here."

"Au jour?" Willow repeated, her smile widening, "My French tutoring is getting through to you!" She shook her head as Buffy moaned a little louder. "And no need to worry. This particular hottie just happens to be a sunshine-lover Buffy spotted at the Espresso Pump."

"More like tripped over." Buffy corrected, her head still buried beneath her arms. "He had these eyes…" She lifted her head.

"Well, I'm all for human-crushing," Xander said, a false cheerfulness to his voice. He paused for a moment as the two girls stared at him. "I mean, crushing on humans. Human guys. Not the crushing of humans. Obviously."

"Right." Buffy said with a grimace, "Cause human-crushing is just a little too much like human constructing for my tastes." The trio shuddered collectively at the reference to last week's debacle with Daryl and his gruesome Franken-girlfriend.

The sound of Giles' clearing his throat brought the three teenagers back to the present and away from the more morbid moments of their lives. "I'm afraid I have some potentially bad news."

"Worse than massive coffee-related embarrassment?" Buffy chirped.

"Well, uh, yes." Giles replied, looking confused. "Ms. Calendar has been researching, well, uh, surfing on her computer, and she's… Well, according to her calculations, this Saturday is the night of St. Vigeous."

Buffy frowned, "Let me guess: he didn't make balloon animals."

"No," Giles replied with a sigh, "he led a crusade of vampires." He removed his glasses and began to polish them, "They swept through Edessa, Harran, and points east."

"Huh." Buffy replied, her face hardening slightly. "So no cotton candy and teddy bears then."

* * *

Buffy sat in Principle Snyder's office, feeling increasingly awkward as Snyder droned on about not really being her pal, because who was he kidding? Apparently the only way out of getting expelled was by teaming up with Sheila the teacher-stabber and setting up Thursday's Parent-Teacher Night. Cause she obviously didn't have enough to worry about with Saturday's St. Vig-the-Vampire-Crusader Night.

"Are we clear?" Snyder sneered, his voice already suggesting that he expected limited success and was already looking forward to a Friday morning expulsion session.

"I'm clear." Buffy replied rapidly, a chill running down her back at the thought of getting expelled yet again. "Don't you feel clear?" She said to Sheila, who just stared back at her, boredom written on her face. "We're very clear."

* * *

Buffy sat on her bed, her bedroom lights already turned off. She was still fully clothed, a stake clutched in one hand. In another moment or two she would be sneaking out yet again, escaping through her bedroom window into the night. Then she would skulk through cemeteries in search of vampires to dust. All the while worrying if her mother thought of her as a "Sheila" and a burden. The cause of her changed life. "It's not very fair," she murmured. Part of her wishing that her biggest concern of the day actually could be the coffee mishap from that morning. If only it could be that easy.

* * *

Spike grinned darkly as he prowled around the group of vampires. They thought they were hot stuff, planning on taking down the Slayer on the night of St. Vigeous. "When I kill her," one boasted, "It'll be the greatest event since the crucifixion. And I should know. I was there."

Spike let a slow laugh escape his lips. "You were there?" He shook his head, "Oh, please! If every vampire who said he was at the crucifixion was actually there, it would have been like Woodstock." There was a darkness in his eyes and manner the amateurs hadn't picked up on. His soul still sat uncomfortably with his demonic nature, and Spike was as dangerous as he had ever been, even if the focus of his violence had changed over the past year.

The smirk on Spike's lips widened slightly. He had infiltrated the vampire nest under the pretence that Spike the Slayer of Slayers was still in action. No vampire who ever learned the truth of Spike's souled status ever survived long enough to talk about it. That this particular nest just happened to be home to the Annointed One – a child this one – was a bonus he hadn't hoped for.

"I oughta rip your throat out." The boastful vampire said.

Spike just smiled, his game face sliding into place. "Or maybe I oughta rip out your's." He replied, a feral glow in his golden eyes.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, Spike strode jauntily through the silent streets of Sunnydale. A fresh cut still bled sluggishly down his cheek, and his battered knuckles bore witness to the damage he had inflicted that night. He held a bottle of whiskey in one hand and was whistling a tune from his earlier days. A smile broke across his face as he recalled the flustered face of the Slayer from that morning. She was a spirited thing, and pretty. It had been worth it to push her into annoyance. He rather thought that he could get used to seeing that flush that irritation brought to her features. Half intoxicated, he kissed the ring of Amara that sat on his hand. How else could he sip coffee by day and win impossible battles by night?


	3. Chapter Two

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Two_

"I guess I was just expecting that St. Viggy's Day was going to actually be something, you know?" Buffy said between swings. It was about an hour since school had let out and Giles was testing her on some of her sword work. "Usually you and Ms. Calendar are pretty on the ball with these things."

"I, well…" Giles parried hard, "Usually yes." He paused for a moment to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief. "Perhaps a break is in order?" He suggested.

Without a second thought Buffy tossed the sword onto a chair, ignoring Giles' wince as the sword's edge left a thin scratch in the wood. "I think I'm still in shock that Parent-Teacher Night went off without a hitch. The look on Snyder's face at the end of the night," Buffy shook her head in slight awe. "I thought he was going to explode with disappointment at not being able to kick me out."

"Must have been quite the expression." Jenny Calendar tossed back as she strolled into the room, sliding lightly onto the tabletop, pointedly ignoring Giles' hopeless look at the misused and ignored chairs. "I, for one, am quite glad that Snyder didn't have the chance to wield his ill-gotten power." She smiled at Buffy, warmth in her dark eyes.

"Quite." Giles said, a little stiffly, as he still struggled to act himself around Jenny. "I was disappointed that your sources were wrong, however…" he began.

"My sources!" Jenny exclaimed, her tone just a little teasing. "Are you sure it was my sources at fault? Maybe there are just other things going on in Sunnydale. Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" She smiled as Giles stuttered over his response. "Relax Rupert," she added, "I think that the absence of trouble is hardly something to get upset about."

"Vous suis un piece de gateau?" Xander queried as he and Willow entered the library.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a direct translation." Willow answered with a disapproving frown.

"Someone said something about cake?" Buffy piped up hopefully from the second level of the library, where she was stretching.

"Hardly." Jenny replied, rolling her eyes playfully at Giles.

"You know French, Ms. Calendar?" Willow asked, her eyes a little wider.

Jenny nodded to Willow, "I spent a summer there last year. Did a little hiking, saw Paris, you know, the usual touristy things."

"I bet Paris was romantic, wasn't it?" Willow breathed, her eyes going a little dreamy. "I've always wanted to see Europe."

"In my experience," Jenny replied with a smile directed at a suddenly flushed Giles, "The romantic-ness of a place is entirely dependent on who you're with."

"Speaking of romance, how're things with Angel there, Buffster?" Xander interrupted, his tone at once flippant and weighted with jealousy.

"Things would be an overstatement," Buffy replied, stepping heavily down the stairs. "There has been a definite absence of things with Angel."

Willow looked over at her friend, "Well, maybe there could be things with the coffee hottie?" She said brightly, hoping to nudge Buffy just a little closer to the direction of possible happiness rather than brooding vampires.

"No sign of him either." Buffy replied sulkily, part unwilling to admit that she had been frequenting the Espresso Pump just a little more frequently than usual just in the hopes of catching another glimpse of her annoying blonde stranger.

"Maybe Angel caught the memo about coffee guy and decided to clear out." Xander sniped, suddenly shameful at Willow's immediate glare. "Or maybe it's just that time of the month. You know, for vampires." He wilted under Willow's angry gaze.

It took Giles clearing his throat disapprovingly to bring the trio of friends back to the library. "In any case, there is definitely some research that could be done…"

The collective sigh that rose from the group echoed around the otherwise empty library.

* * *

Buffy stalked through the silent cemetery, the heels of her shoes dragging along the grass as she dully scanned the area for fledgling vampires. Spotting nothing for what seemed like the millionth scan, she finally settled heavily onto the edge of a stone bench. She sighed; her heart really wasn't into the whole patrol thing tonight. Xander's comments earlier about Angel had gotten her stuck on the topic of the brooding vampire yet again. She couldn't understand him. Sometimes it seemed like there was something between them, something real. Like when he had held her that night after the incident with the Master's bones. She shivered slightly in the autumn air, pulling her thin jacket more tightly around her, imagining his strong arms encircling her instead.

But he wasn't here. Maybe there was no point in her even pretending that he was. Maybe her friends were right in their belief that Angel wasn't really the one for her. Maybe. Or maybe she just still had a certain pair of blue eyes etched into her memory and Willow's continuous poking into the matter of the "coffee hottie" had her thinking that there could be another pair of strong arms that could hold her tight.

"Buffy," a deep voice interrupted her musings. "Buffy, I need to talk to you. Something is going on and…"

Buffy turned to face Angel just a little more slowly than she usually would. Speak of the devil, she thought to herself, smothering an inward smile. Somehow she wasn't surprised that Angel had tracked her down just to talk about business. The idea that he would come talk to her just to talk to her, Buffy, not Buffy the Vampire Slayer, probably never crossed his mind.

"Things have been too quiet lately." He said softly, drawing closer to where Buffy still sat on the stone bench.

"Isn't quiet something that we generally try to celebrate on a Hellmouth?" Buffy said softly, the attempt at humour going south before the question even left her mouth.

Not when they're too quiet." Angel replied, his lips pressed together tightly. As if he were a spring pushed too far back, Buffy found herself thinking, as if he'd forgotten how to laugh a long time ago. Which was silly, she was certain she'd heard him laugh. Or at least seen him smile, hadn't she? "I think there is someone or something picking off the demons."

"Other than me and you?" Buffy quipped lightly. "Shouldn't we give them a reward?"

His frown deepened. "I think this could be serious, Buffy." He said slowly, giving each word audible weight. "Whoever or whatever is doing this could have their own ends in mind."

Buffy sighed softly. "I'll tell Giles, get him and Ms. Calendar on it. They might be able to find out what's going on. If something is going on." She watched his eyes narrow slightly, realizing suddenly that she had just questioned Angel. Had she ever done that before? "I mean… if it's something bad going on." She stammered slightly, wondering why she was doubting Angel's assessment. Maybe it was just that the last two weeks had been almost normal for her. An almost normal life.

Angel was probably right. It was just too good to be true.

* * *

Angel watched Buffy stroll away into the night, her thin black jacket wrapped tightly around her thin frame. Why couldn't' she wear more sensible clothing when out patrolling, he wondered. There was no way that jacket was keeping her anywhere near warm enough. For a brief moment he wondered if he should go after her. Give her his coat, walk her home, wrap her into a tight hug to try to chase the shadows from her eyes. But what was the point? He was a monster. He had nothing he could really give her. Nothing real anyway.

Torn between walking away and running after the petite girl who was stealing his undead heart, Angel suddenly stiffened. The click of a lighter snapping shut echoed loudly in the quiet cemetery and Angel whirled around quickly. Perched lazily on top of the roof of a mausoleum, Spike was watching him. A cigarette hung from his lips, which were curved into an amused smirk, and one leg dangled from the edge of the roof. "You're getting soft, Peaches." he announced, "Didn't notice me at all during your little tete-a-tete."

Angel growled. "Spike. What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

The grin the younger vampire sent him had his eyes flashing golden. "Catchin' a show."

"You're not going to make Buffy your next Slayer." Angel snarled. "I won't let you."

He watched Spike jump effortlessly from the roof of the mausoleum, watched him as he took a deep drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and grinding it under his boot. "Who said I was here to make…" he took a long look at Angel's scowling features, "Buffy, my next Slayer?" He walked up to Angel, rocking slightly on his heels as he smirked. "Who said I was even still in the business?"

Angel found himself grinding his teeth as he stared at his impertinent grand-Childe. "You never change, Spike." He said lowly. "You'll always be an evil soulless thing." The last thing he expected was for Spike to start laughing at that statement. He glared at the other vampire as his laughter increased.

"Oh Peaches," he exclaimed, "You really are too much." His eyes shone in the dim light of the moon. "Haven't you heard the news? I've got one of the bloody things too."

After a brief scuffle, Angel found himself sitting on the grass beside Spike, utterly dumbfounded and still somewhat disbelieving about the whole affair. Spike was back to smoking, favouring his left hand as his right hung somewhat limply, likely broken from their earlier fight. Angel wiped at the trickle of blood that was still running from the split lip he'd received and winced slightly as he gingerly touched the swelling area around his left eye. "So if all this is true," he began slowly, "Not that I believe you," he added quickly, "Where's Drusilla?"

He watched the amusement fade instantly from the other vampire's eyes. Spike's features became unreadable, as if they had been chiselled from stone. "She's dead." He said after a long moment. "Threw herself into the sunrise, just after making me promise I'd keep at the living." He hung his head slightly then, his voice becoming a little more vulnerable, "Said I had some sort of destiny to fulfill." The small laugh that escaped his lips was bitter and Angel almost felt ashamed to have even asked. Only death, the permanent and dusty kind, would have kept Spike from Drusilla. Even he knew that.

"So why are you here then?" He asked a little more gently. Knowing Spike was alone made his presence almost bearable.

"Working for you, ain't it?" Was the snide reply he received. "Figured that with a soul I might as well take notes from the great poofter himself. Heard you were in Sunnydale, decided to take in the sights." Spike snorted softly, "Gotta say the Slayer here is quite the vision."

Before he knew what he was doing, Angel found himself yanking Spike towards him by the lapels of his stolen leather coat. Just inches from the other vampire's face, he growled darkly. "If you hurt her, I will kill you, Spike. Soul or no soul. You will stay away from her."

For the second time that night Angel found himself being laughed in the face. "You're really stuck on the 'bit, aren't you?" Spike was chuckling. "Real possessive like." His features darkened in kind and his eyes glowed golden for a moment, "Don't think I forget how possessiveness doesn't suit you, Angelus." He wrenched himself from Angel's hold. "Not that you need to worry." He added lightly, brushing invisible dust from his coat, "You can keep the come-by-night brooding act. Just let me fight my demons and leave me out of the conversation."

"Deal." Angel replied tightly, wondering why exactly he was agreeing to anything with Spike. Except that even as he wondered he was flooded with guilt for the very moments and acts that Spike was referring too. It was his fault that Spike and Drusilla had ever existed. It was he who had made them into what they were. And demons or not, no creature actually deserved to be treated the way Angelus had treated his Children.

And if Buffy ever knew…


	4. Chapter Three

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Three_

The next time she spotted him it was a Wednesday afternoon. She had gotten out of her after school training on good behaviour and was actually just getting a strawberry smoothie to accompany her walk home. Pretty soon the chill of what passed for winter in sunny southern California would keep her from drinking the chilled beverage and this particular sunny afternoon just screamed for strawberries. She was turning away from the pick up counter when she saw him. He was waiting in line at the register, his blue eyes trained quite calmly on her. "Extra whip." He said with a nod, as if it were her name.

Indignantly, she brandished the smoothie. "Not today." She replied, a tingle running down her spine despite the annoyance she felt at having been made the centre of attention for the whole shop.

The smile that twitched in the corner of his lips also lit up his eyes. Accepting the coffee in one hand, the other being full of his folded black leather coat, he gestured to her. "Sit with me awhile?" He asked softly, a gentleness there that Buffy wouldn't have immediately expected. It caught her slightly off-guard, and the memories of her brief and un-inspiring meeting with Angel several night before had her nodding yes before she really considered the offer.

As she slide into the seat across the small round café table from the blonde stranger she quirked a smile. "No more calling me 'Extra Whip' though. That's my one condition."

"Condition granted." He replied, his lips still turned up into a slight smile. "Provided I can get your name."

Buffy smiled, offering her hand. "Buffy Summers."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Summers," he smirked at her, catching her hand and drawing it lightly to his lips. His accent and the barest brush of his lips across the back of her hand had Buffy almost trembling with the tingles running up her spine. "William." He breathed across her hand.

Buffy drew her hand back slowly, slightly in awe. In a moment she pulled herself together. There was no reason for her to go all melty over him just 'cause he kissed her hand. It was just a gesture. And his accent marked him as British. Maybe the hand-kissing thing was a lot more popular in England. And not a big deal. Totally not a big deal. "You don't look like a William." She said finally, settling back into her chair and setting the straw between her lips, gnawing slightly at the end of it.

"So what do I look like then, pet?" He asked, a smirk playing across his features again.

"I don't know." She replied, fidgeting slightly, "Maybe a… Billy?" She opted for the teasing reply.

He lifted an eyebrow at that one. For the first time Buffy noticed the thin white scar that marred it. Or gave it character. She found herself unable to decide. "If you're referring to the hair, pet…" he began, a warning note in his voice, "I heard Billy Idol stole his look from someone else." She laughed at his mock serious tone. "People who know me well usually call me by my nickname." He added, relenting slightly.

"And what's that?" She asked, toying with the straw in between her lips.

He quirked his eyebrow at her in what she was beginning to realize was a trademark look. "Guess I'll tell you when you know me better."

They bantered back and forth. And it felt normal to Buffy. Obviously not totally normal, because just how many high school students ended up sitting in coffee shops chatting with totally gorgeous and older guys with just slightly ridiculously bleached hair which he somehow actually managed to pull off? But as normal as Buffy had ever found herself wanting. Sitting and laughing at a sunlit window in a coffee shop talking about the difficulties of staying awake during history classes and the elusive nature of math (hey, he hated numbers too). It was with disappointment that Buffy realized she had to be heading home. His smile as she was leaving warmed her right through though, and his off-hand comment that he would be keeping an eye out for her set the tingles off yet again.

* * *

He would be lying if he said that he hadn't shown up on the following Wednesday with the sole intention of meeting with Buffy again. He appeared just behind her as her order came up. Vanilla bean latte, no whip. A smirk was already on his lips before she turned around to find him staring at her. "You never order the same thing twice, do you, pet?" He prompted. There was something about her, the liveliness she had, her tendency toward saucy comebacks, that brought out the softer aspects of himself that had remerged with the soul. The Slayer attracted the vampire, but there was none of that in these coffee shop meetings. Here was just the something about Buffy that drew William in like a moth to the flame.

"No whip this time?" He asked innocently. "Slacking off on the training?"

He watched her redden, suddenly a little flustered as she obviously debated what to tell him. "I… well there were supposed to be some upcoming… tournaments… and competitions." She shrugged. "They didn't happen."

"Someone stealing all the competition?" He replied, knowing full well that it was his own actions that were leaving the streets and cemeteries with less than there full complement of demons. It was the funny look she gave him that told him to abandon the line of banter before he betrayed too much.

Too soon she was rising to go, her latte long since drained. A slight panic rose inside him. The more time he spent with the girl, the more time he wanted to spend with her. Talking about nothing with her felt more meaningful than all the conversations he'd had in the last decade combined. And it was a feeling he couldn't shake. "Will you be here again next Wednesday?" He found himself asking her, a bewildered flood of emotions rushing through his mind, a direct inheritance from William and his bolstered hold over the Spike who had emerged from the ensouling spell.

The brightness of her smile washed away the demon's rage at his ridiculous behaviour. "If you'll be here, so will I." She replied.

"It's a date." He murmured under his breath as she headed out the door. The slight incline of her head gave him the sudden realization that she may have heard him. Slayer hearing and all. He watched her form disappear down the street. "Bloody hell." He muttered, lifting a hand to cover his face. William had a sodding crush on the Slayer.

* * *

"It's a date." He had said. Buffy tugged nervously on the hem of her new black skirt. She'd taken twenty extra minutes to get dressed this morning. Running through a full eight outfits and back again to the first before excepting that she was ready to go. Because of William. Saying it was a date.

She was certain she wasn't supposed to have heard it. After all, he'd said it so quietly, no normal girl would have overheard it. Of course, Buffy was no normal girl, so maybe she should take this unexpected gift of her Slayer senses and run with it. If he liked her enough to even want to consider it a date, well then…

Well then maybe she ought to get her head on straight about Angel. The thought forced her to slow down a little on her way to the Espresso Pump. She'd seen Angel again last night, and had tried to talk to him about her encounter with the Incan mummy girl.

"_She was kinda like me, you know." She'd said softly. "She gave up everything for her people. And she just wanted the chance to be a normal girl. To have a little romance. She actually kinda liked Xander a lot, I think."_

"_It was probably a trap." Angel had replied, only have paying attention to her. "Besides, she's nothing like you, Buffy. You would never be so selfish as to put other's lives in danger, let alone take them, just to go to a dance with a boy."_

Buffy wasn't sure he was right. Seeing the other couples at school, in the hallways, holding hands, kissing. Hearing the whispered conversations about time spent in bedrooms when parents weren't home, that elusive all-the-way that was spoken of only in hushed tones and high-pitched squeals. She wanted some little part of that. She emerged from her thoughts in a swirl of confusion, the front door to the Espresso Pump suddenly in front of her. And here she was, on what could possibly be a date at a coffee shop.

Who knew? Maybe he would hold her hand.

Or maybe he would already be sitting at a table, with two drinks sitting in front of them. One of them quite obviously a double chocolate mocha, extra whip. She walked up to him shyly, "You didn't have to buy my drink." She said softly.

"Thought you could use the extra whip." He said with a smirk. "Women look best with curves."

She pouted at that. "What if I had wanted something else?" She pretended to be offended, a small, nervous question rising in the back of her mind directed at her existent curves pointedly ignored.

"And what ever happened to a thank you for a gentlemanly gesture?" He snapped back.

"And when did it become gentlemanly to comment on a woman's curves?" She spat back, finding herself enjoying the snark in their comments. They were baiting each other, eyes lighting up exponentially with every matched move.

Within half an hour Buffy found herself itching to tell William about the Incan mummy girl. She had a sneaking suspicion that he could appreciate it, even if she left out the bit about also giving up a normal life for the sake of the many. She nibbled on her lower lip, wondering if mentioning such a thing would weird him out enough that he'd never want to see her again.

"If I told you a story that sounded really crazy and impossible, would you be able to laugh at it?" She asked suddenly.

"Depends what it's about." He replied, his blue eyes growing a little more serious and focusing directly on her.

She swallowed nervously. "Ok, let's say that this story happened to a friend of mine, hypothetically. And when I'm done telling it, you can tell me if you think its at all plausible, or if believing something like it could actually happen would qualify someone for the loony bin? K?" At his puzzled nod, she took a deep breath and launched into the tale of Xander's ill-fated date with the Incan mummy. Filling in the gaps in Xander's characterization, Buffy hoped she was conveying the sad hilarity of Xander's attempt at dating, and her sympathy for the girl, for just wanting to have that chance at a normal life, including boys and dating. The amused twitches of his lips and the warm blue that suggested he was reading between the lines reassured her. He was definitely leaving Angel in the dust in the competition for better listener.

"So who's the one breaking your heart?" He said finally, after the story was done.

Buffy froze. She'd known he was reading between the lines, but he wasn't supposed to be that good! "It was Xander who had his heart broken," she replied lightly, "Or weren't you listening?" She tempered the question with a teasing smile.

The serious intensity of his gaze made her pause though, as he blatantly ignored her comment, apparently content to wait for her to break under his scrutiny. "He… umm… there's this guy." She admitted quietly. "I thought he liked me and I really liked him, but it's like… if he really cared, wouldn't he show me? I mean, wouldn't there be dates and stuff?" Her voice was rising a little now, as she stared William straight in the face, almost desperate for an answer. "Wouldn't there be something more than just… whatever it is?"

His gaze softened slightly, though its intensity didn't fade. "The poofter hasn't even taken you on a date?" His voice was soft, sympathetic, though it carried a note of disbelief.

"Not… no." She stammered. "I mean, we talk sometimes and… go for walks. But then sometimes it's as if he's not even really listening."

"Like he doesn't really see you?" William prompted softly, his voice suggesting that he was deep in thought.

Buffy paused. "Yeah." She stared at him thoughtfully. Talking about Angel definitely wasn't what she'd had planned, but William seemed oddly alright with the topic.

"Ever considered that maybe his feelings for you aren't really for you, but for what you represent?" His tone was gentle, his accent making it sound more like a caress than a question. Buffy blinked, the actually words taking a moment to soak in.

And once they had, she really wished they hadn't. "No. No, he definitely has feelings for me." She said bluntly, perhaps a little too loudly, even as she remembered thinking something just a little bit similar herself. She watched something almost pained slip behind his eyes, and she realized belatedly that in time this man could possibly start to mean something to her too. Ruining this by caring too much about Angel, when all signs suggested he didn't really feel anything romantic towards her… Maybe this was all just a bad idea. Maybe what she really needed was time to clear her head.

Staring down at the dregs of her mocha she sighed. "I think," she began, her voice cracking slightly, "I think you're right, actually. I've just liked him for such a long time now. It's..."

"Hard to let go?" He prompted, sending her gaze back up to meet his. There was understanding written there and Buffy accepted that with a grateful smile. An almost comfortable silence fell between them, despite everything that hadn't been said.

"I should probably get going." Buffy said finally, rising slowly from her chair. She bit her lip shyly as looked back at him, a few strands of hair falling across her face. "Thanks for listening though." She said softly. "Even to my crazy story."

He shook his head, a smile flitting across his lips as his eyes took on a mischievous glow. "I've _seen_ crazier." He replied cryptically. "See you next week?"

She smiled at him gratefully, her already swirling mind and emotions taking on extra speed. "Yeah, you will."


	5. Chapter Four

_**With My Soul Clenched  
**_

_Some lines are borrowed out of the episode "Reptile Boy."  
_

_Chapter Four_

Buffy's mind was buzzing the next day at school. She'd had another uneventful patrol after the very-much-not-a-date with William. There had been no sign of Angel either. Which had left her entirely far too alone with her thoughts. What if William _was_ right, and Angel really did see her as some sort of symbol? It made sense in a way; after all, hadn't she thought something very similar? That he spent time with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and not Buffy the Girl? What did it mean to be someone's symbol?

Buffy sighed dejectedly. If only Angel was a normal guy after a normal girl and not some sort of redemption for evil things he'd done before his soul. It didn't even really make sense for him to still be brooding about it anyway. Buffy kicked her locker closed, ignoring the stares of the other students in the hallway as she stalked towards the library.

"And he's just _so_ sweet. And _so _amazing. And did I mention that he's older and has a car?" Cordelia's voice carried down the hallway towards her and Buffy froze. The last thing she needed right now was some sly comment from Cordelia, who was rubbing her current relationship with some guy from one of the fraternities in everyone's nose. A functional relationship with an older guy? Buffy just couldn't deal with that right now. Spinning on her heel, Buffy headed toward the school's front doors and had just about escaped when a black BMW cut her off, one tire climbing up onto the curb in front of the high school, the other three firmly on the road.

"Hey, sweetheart," a male voice called from the car, "Need a ride?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, thank you," she replied curtly, "I'd rather walk. At least that way I know I'll get home in one piece."

"Oh c'mon, playing hard to get?" A tall guy stepped out from the driver's side, an ugly grin plastered across his face.

"Richard!" A shrill voice called out. "You came to pick me up!" Buffy watched distastefully as Cordelia practically floated her way down the school's front steps to arrive at the man's side. She looked up at him expectantly, waited for a moment, and then followed his gaze to where it still hung on Buffy. "Why are you looking at her?" Cordelia's voice lost its sugary coating.

"She's cute." Richard replied, looking down at Cordelia. "You should bring her to the party we're having tonight."

"I'm still standing right here." Buffy interrupted. "And I'm really not interested in fraternity parties."

"That's just you haven't been to any yet." Richard replied lewdly.

"Richard, man, seriously?" A second guy got out of the car. "You can be the biggest dick sometimes." He walked the few feet towards Buffy and stuck out his hand. "I'm Tom Warner. I'm a senior at Crestwood College. Feel free to ignore him," he jabbed a thumb back in Richard's direction, "I do all the time." He smiled at Buffy, letting his hand fall when she just looked at him blankly. "Okay," he continued, "and now I just feel like a complete dolt introducing myself this way, so… here I stand in all my doltishness." He crossed his arms and an expression of utter insecurity fell across his face.

Buffy found herself smiling a little. "I'm Buffy Summers."

"Nice to meet you." Tom replied, his face brightening. "Are you a senior here?"

"Junior." Buffy replied, still a little hesitant.

"Oh, me too," Tom started to say, a frown crossing his face, "Except that I'm a senior and I'm in college. So we have that in common, and… I major in history."

Buffy found herself warming up a little to the guy. With his shyness and clumsy attempts at conversation he was rather unlike the other older guys she knew. "History stumps me," she admitted. "I have a hard enough time remembering what happened last week."

"No, nothing happened last week," Tom replied eagerly, "Don't worry, I was there." He was smiling at her again. "So, uh, my friend," he paused, turning his head for a moment to look at Richard flirting with Cordelia, "You know, actually he's not even really my friend. I only joined the fraternity because my father and grandpa were in it before me. Y'know, it meant a lot to them."

Buffy let her smile broaden a little. In an awkward way, his banter almost reminded her of coffee with William.

"I know you said you didn't wanna," he continued, "But these are really dull parties full of really dull people, so… would you like to come and save me from a really dull fate?" He was gazing at her hopefully now.

Buffy found herself chewing her lip. Behind Tom, Cordelia was staring at her, wiggling her eyebrows and giving little nods of her head. She supposed that meant Cordelia wanted her to say yes. Which was really one big reason to say no. Followed closely by the confusion that was swamping her thanks to Angel and William. Which was why she was absolutely shocked when she heard her own reply, "Yeah, ok. What time should I be there?"

* * *

She was furious with herself. What the hell had she been thinking, accepting Tom's invitation? She kicked at a loose stone, sending it ricocheting off a tombstone and into some trees. She frowned at the tombstone. It just might be possible that the little rock had chipped it. "Stupid rock." She muttered. "Stupid Buffy." Her voice increased in volume. "Stupid men." What she really needed right now was something to kill. What _had_ happened to all the vampires in this town? "Stupid vampires. Come out so I can kill you so I can stop thinking about stupid dates!" She exclaimed angrily into the night air, suddenly catching sight of something small and sparkling on the ground. Kneeling down, she found herself holding a thin bracelet.

"There's blood on it." Angel's voice appeared behind her suddenly.

She sighed softly. Wouldn't it just figure that he would show up tonight? "Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?" She began, the anger draining out of her voice even before she turned to face him. Her eyes searched for his dark ones. "Hi." She murmured softly, struck by his melancholy gaze, as she always was. He was so tall, so strong. Why couldn't he just wrap his arms around her and make all the confusion and frustration go away. It'd be so easy…

"Wait. Blood?" She came back to the present with startling speed.

"I can smell it." He replied, a little sheepishly, gesturing at the small bracelet in her hand.

"Oh," she looked at the delicate piece of metal, "It probably belonged to a girl," she mused.

"Probably." Was all he said.

She looked from the bracelet to Angel and then to the ground by her feet. "I was… just thinking, wouldn't it be funny some time to see each other when it wasn't a Slayer thing?" She smiled, a little bitterly.

He stared at her for a long moment, a hand running through his dark hair. "Does this have something to do with the dates you were yelling about earlier?"

It was Buffy's turn to look sheepish. "Heard that, did you?" She sighed. "I just… it would be nice to feel like we actually have a… something." She looked at the frown crossing his lips. "Or… or if we don't."

"Buffy," he said softly, "You're sixteen years old. I'm two hundred and forty-one."

"And you don't look a day over twenty-six." She quipped, the small smile on her face fading rapidly as he just continued to stare at her.

"You don't know what you're doing, you don't know what you want…" he began.

"Oh. No, I, I think I do." She stuttered, wishing suddenly that she could be talking with William again. At least then she could probably just change the topic. "I want out of this conversation." She started to move away from Angel, realizing somewhere in her gut that she was just being silly to think that Angel…

"Listen," he said, suddenly reaching out to grasp her wrist, "If we date, you and I both know one thing's gonna lead to another. I'm just trying to protect you. This could get outta control."

"Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" Buffy breathed, part of her hoping and wishing that the hand on her wrist, the closeness of his body meant something. That William could be wrong.

"This isn't some fairy tale. When I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after."

She stared up at him. The seriousness of his dark gaze, the frown that seemed to permanently crease his lips. If she was smart… if she was smart she would let her feelings for Angel crumble into dust, like the vampires she dusted every night. But when had smart ever played into matters of the heart? "No." she murmured hoarsely, pulling herself free from his grasp. "When you kiss me I wanna die."

* * *

"Buffy," Giles started from his place behind the library counter as she walked into the library, "How was patrol last night?"

"I found this." Buffy pulled the bracelet out of her pocket and placed it in Giles' hand. "Angel said there was blood on it." She continued over to the table, where Willow and Xander were already sitting.

"Angel, eh?" Willow said with a nudge, "Meeting up with him for patrols still? I thought things were going smooth with the coffee hottie?"

Buffy shrugged. "Last time I saw him I ended up talking about Angel, so fat chance anything is happening there. And Angel?" she shook her head, "He treats me like a child."

"So does that mean there's actually some truth behind the rumours that you and Cordelia are going to a party tonight?" Xander looked up from his textbook, revealing the comic book hidden strategically within. "Cause, you know, fraternity guys? Not so different from vamps."

Buffy smiled half-heartedly. "Tom seemed decent enough. I'm just gonna go for a little while. I wanna see what its like."

Giles cleared his throat behind her. "I personally believe that this matter may be somewhat more pressing."

"What matter?" Buffy replied, looking backwards at Giles.

"The matter of the bracelet with blood on it?" Giles said dryly. "The one you discovered last night on patrol?"

"Oh, that matter." Buffy looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, you're right, Giles. I should patrol. After all, if something actually is going bump in the night for a change, I'd hate to have missed it. All the nothing I've been encountering for the last few weeks has been extremely suspicious." She tried her best to look serious. "I should be on my guard."

Giles looked at her a little sceptically, even as Willow and Xander raised their eyebrows at each other. "Erm, right then. Shall we get back to weapons training?"

Willow and Xander tackled her the moment they stepped out of the library. "You're not going to patrol, are you?" Willow hissed. "You're going to go to the party instead." Her face took on a slightly horrified expression. "You lied to Giles!"

"Tisk tisk, Buff." Xander added, shaking his head. "You get into trouble with one of those college boys and you know Giles is going to…"

"Implode?" Buffy supplied. "Since it would mean all my hand-to-hand combat training was for nothing?" She shook her head. "I can protect myself from a couple normal guys. It's not like I haven't protected myself and everyone else from things a whole lot worse." She turned to Willow, "And things have been so quiet lately that even if I did go patrol tonight, I wouldn't find anything! The way Angel was acting last night, the blood on that bracelet could have been weeks old. It might have been sitting there for weeks just waiting for me to get so desperate from boredom that I finally found it!"

Her friends stared at her, looking slightly wounded. Buffy relented. "Guys, I'm sorry. I've just… I'm a headcase right now, and I just need to feel like a normal girl for one night."

"Isn't that what your coffee breaks are with William?" Willow asked softly, "A chance to do something normal like get coffee with a normal guy?"

"I…" Buffy was left a little speechless.

"Just be careful, k, Buff?" Xander added, his hand settling on her shoulder. "And have fun tonight."

Buffy watched her two best friends go with a sense of shame crawling up her spine. This party had better be worth it.

* * *

Spike watched her from behind hooded eyes. He had taken to following her on her patrols, not that she ever ran into anything dangerous – he had taken care of most of the town's baddies for the moment. In fact, he wasn't entirely certain why she kept patrolling. Beneath the reasons he admitted to himself for fighting off most of the fledgling vampires and demons who routinely stalked Sunnydale, like his love of a good fight, was the fact that he wanted Buffy to have the normal life she seemed to crave. It was written all over the story she had told him the week before, about the Incan mummy girl. He'd heard the echo of Buffy's own longing for a normal life between every word she's said about the Incan girl.

It had been evident this week too, when she had walked in to meet him for coffee again. This time she caught him while he was still standing in line and ordered her own coffee, though he had still insisted on paying for it. He didn't really know why. It might have been the William in him. It might have been just so he could see gratitude in her eyes. Just how many vampires had the Slayer saying thank you?

She'd been abnormally quiet at first, until he got her to open up about the party she had apparently been to on the Friday previous. It started as the typical high school girl goes to frat party after school special plotline, but seemed to end abruptly.

"_And they just… weren't who we had thought they were." She ended cryptically._

"_Uh huh. Sounds like you're leaving something outta there, pet."_

_She'd look up at nervously, her fingers fiddling with her straw. "It's kinda like the mummy girl story." She's murmured quietly._

"_So tell me about it." He'd urged. He didn't know why he liked to hear her talk so much. Why he wanted her to open up to him. To tell him all her fears, all the things that happened in her life, even the things that had to do with peaches. He put it down to the soul. William had always been a sucker for a good story. And even now Spike was a sucker for a pretty face. _

"_They were summoning a demon and tried to sacrifice us to it." _

It was amazing that she had accepted his acceptance of the story as easily as she did. She didn't even question it beyond whether he questioned her sanity. That fear reassured she had leapt lightly to the next topic – her upcoming history exam. Which somehow he had then spent the next half hour helping her study for. Spike shook his head, he was going soft.

He heard the footfalls before the Slayer did, and Spike retreated further into the forest lining the side of this particular cemetery. "Buffy," he heard Angel's voice echo across to him. "I was wondering… if you wanted to get that coffee?"

It took a moment for Spike to process that the harsh grinding sound he was hearing was the grinding of his own teeth. How dare Peaches steal away his girl? And coffee! Coffee was his thing! He struggled to hear Buffy's response, catching only the odd word as the light wind swept up the conversation and threw it to the wind. But he watched her walk away with Angel, a smile on her pretty face.

It wasn't until they were out of his field of view that he realized that he had thought of Buffy, the Slayer, as his.


	6. Chapter Five

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Apologies to anyone and everyone who really hates Angel. The first scene of this chapter is really just a lead up to eventual Spuffy goodness. I promise._

_Chapter Five_

Buffy wasn't entirely sure what she had expected from Angel. In one hand she clutched the cup of coffee he had grudgingly paid for, while her other hand remained clenched in one of her pockets. The night air was starting to carry a chill, and it didn't seem that her hand was going to be shielded from that chill by Angel's hand any time soon. They were walking down the street, a pair of shadows in a shadowy world. Buffy found herself thinking longingly of double chocolate mochas in afternoon sunshine. And a more talkative partner.

"So…" Angel began, "What is considered acceptable date-talk?"

"Is this a date?" Buffy asked softly, a trace of disappointment in her wistful voice.

Angel did nothing but look at her in mild confusion. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He asked her, his dark eyes searching her form.

Buffy hid a little behind her loose hair. "Yes," she mumbled, "I was just expecting… hoping that you would be a little more into it."

At that Angel paused, his hands reaching for hers. Pulling her gently to face him, he stared down at her earnestly. "Buffy, I haven't done this in a long, long time. I mean, the last time I was on something you could call a date," his brow furrowed, "A human date, anyway, was hundreds of years ago." He smiled a sad smile, "And I don't think you would consider a seventeenth century date to be one either." Angel lifted her chin with one finger, "I'm kinda new at this." He admitted.

Buffy smiled softly, hope sparking in her eyes. "Well, so am I." She said firmly, "I guess we'll just have to teach each other." She leaned up ever so slightly, and was rewarded by a brief brush of Angel's lips against hers. It was enough to make her feel as if she were floating.

* * *

Spike woke up with a start from tortured dreams. Voices heavy with agony and accusation rang in his ears as he struggled to free himself of his tangled sheets. His eyes strained sightlessly into the artificial darkness of his room. Somewhere within him, he dimly knew that it was mid-morning. The visions that haunted him, however, cried of darkness, death, and spilled blood.

Pulling himself free of the stifling fabric that enveloped him, Spike strode over to his bedroom window and flung open the heavy curtains. Sunlight poured over his pale body, and he still flinched, despite the security of the gem. He stood in the golden sunlight for a long moment as the nightmares melted away and his unnecessary breathing slowed. He rarely slept more than a few hours in a night since he had been re-souled. Guilt ate at him in every unoccupied moment, and the blood he had spilt over the years could pour forth in his dreams and choke him. Only when he was in the sunlight was he completely free of the feelings. The sheer wonder and joy of stepping into the sunshine was enough to momentarily distract him. More than that, it reassured him that there could be something else worth living for. Something beyond just his promise to Dru.

Oddly enough, Buffy Summers had the same effect.

Which was why the following night found him at the Bronze. It was a Saturday night, and young people of all ages crowded the dance floor. Spike watched from the shadows as Buffy sat with some of her friends, laughing and talking while sipping at a glass of pop. Normally, he wouldn't have followed her when she wasn't on patrol. His role as protector didn't include practically stalking her from the shadows of a club. The glow of her laughing expression had him riveted though, and he found himself wishing he had the balls to walk over to her, steal her away from her friends and pull her onto the dance floor. There he could wrap his arms around her and keep her for himself, and out of the arms of Angel. That kind of nerve had disappeared with the re-emergence of his soul though, and there was enough of William lurking beneath his skin to keep him pinned to the periphery.

It was the natural fidgeting nature of his hands which eventually drove him the bar in search of something to occupy them. He had just finished paying for the bottle of cheap American beer when a soft impact behind him forced him to spin around with just a hint of a growl. "Buffy." He exclaimed in surprise, his eyes widening in a mixture of shock and embarrassment for seemingly getting caught.

"William!" She replied good-naturedly. "I'd kinda been wondering if you took advantage of any of the fun things in town!" Her smile was wide and her eyes were dancing with laughter.

"Yeah," he began, a little unsure of himself in the face of her innocent laughter. She was like sunlight, if sunlight had a personality and a female form.

"C'mon," she said, tugging on the sleeve of his black duster that he still guiltily donned at night and when the days were particularly chilly. "You should come sit with us. Willow has been dying to meet you!"

"You talk about me, pet?" he murmured softly in wonder.

She answered him with an amused smile. "Of course I do. I can't exactly not mention a friend of mine, can I?"

In the space of a few minutes, Spike found himself sitting next to Buffy at a table, watching her friends, now identified as Xander and Willow, dance a little awkwardly together. "They're a little afraid of dancing too close, aren't they?" He observed.

"Willow has a massive crush on Xander." Buffy replied. "She has for years and just won't do anything about it. I think she's terrified that he won't share her feelings." She cast a glance at him, a slight frown on her lips. "Seriously legit fears, unfortunately."

Spike stared at her a little askance. "So is he not-a-date guy?" He asked, gesturing in Xander's direction. He knew that Angel was the guy on her mind, but what was the harm in making sure Peaches was his only competition?

She stared at him in disbelief. "Me and Xander?" Her stare flashed momentarily to her friends on the dance floor. "That's just… wiggy." Her gaze softened a little, "But the guy… he finally took me on a date."

It took everything Spike had to keep himself from getting up and raging against the universe at the unfairness of it all. It wasn't as if he could justify his frustration. For Buffy, let alone the Slayer, to even consider him a friend was far more than he could have ever asked for or deserved. But a selfish part of him still demanded why. Why Angel and not him?

"Where'd he take you?" He finally asked, his voice level and unemotional.

"Just for a coffee." She said softly, "But it was nice." Her eyes were a little dreamy.

Spike snorted. "I've taken you for coffee how many times now? And those weren't even dates." And just as a testament to why he was so attracted to the young woman, her eyes flashed with something that just evaded description.

* * *

There was a moment of rage. Then a moment of embarrassment. Then a moment of confusion. Why did she care if William didn't think their coffee… meetings… were dates? She hadn't. Or at least, she hadn't thought she had.

She'd barely even recognized him when she'd been propelled into his back by the rowdy crowd of frat guys she'd been skirting her way around. Seeing him by daylight, she would never have believed that his high cheekbones could look so sharp in dim light. Shadows hugged his face, and the black duster he normally just carried with him or had hanging over his chair swirled around him, a little like a cape. He looked haunted. Or perhaps as though he could do the haunting.

And he was fantastically good looking. It was a little hard to ignore that part when they were sitting just inches apart.

He was watching her, Buffy realized with a start. Confused, but perhaps hopeful, eyes were trained specifically on her. "So it wasn't an awesome date." She finally said, hoping that the acceptance of the fact would force the topic to drop.

She gazed at him as an almost calculating look crossed his face. "I could take you on a date." He said slowly, his accent making the statement sound like a caress. "If you wanted. So you would know what a girl like you should expect."

"A girl like me?" Buffy breathed despite herself, suddenly wondering if haunting had been the right word to describe him. At the moment William looked more like a hunter. And for a split second Buffy wondered if she was his prey.

"Hey!" Xander's voice called out from the dance floor, "Buffster! Get over here and shake your something!"

Buffy watched as William started. Xander's voice interrupted the moment, and she realized quite suddenly that she might never get to hear exactly what she was like. "In a minute!" She called back, desperately wishing she could go back in time. But his eyes were cool again, the hunter she'd seen in them packed up and pushed away.

"Go ahead, luv," William said softly, "Go dance with your friends."

It only took a second for her to grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor with her.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he whispered into her ear as she pulled him into the crowd. She only turned slightly and shrugged, pretending she couldn't hear him over the loud music pulsating through The Bronze.

Suddenly, Buffy felt a tingle run up her spine. She searched the crowd frantically, "Why now?" She breathed, suddenly realizing that she'd been sensing vampires since she'd bumped into William at the bar. Shirking Slayer duty to chat up older guys when she already had a boyfriend: Giles would take this ever-so-well. Buffy let go of William's hand with a sense of remorse. Hopefully, the vamps setting off her Spidey senses would be easy to find and dust and she could find him again, playing it off on some lame excuse like the dance floor was too crowded.

"Here vampy," she hummed under her breath as she stalked the fringes of the crowd, spotting a tall guy dressed in a red suit with a fluffy white shirt lead a young woman out of a back door. "Gotcha fangface!" She hissed triumphantly.

"You know what they say, don't you?" She announced grimly as she slipped out the back door to face the red-suit vamp posed over back of the young woman's neck, one hand clamped firmly over her mouth as her eyes begged Buffy for help. "Disco's dead."

He growled at her from over the young woman's shoulder, fangs drawn and golden eyes flashing. "Well, can't say I didn't warn you," Buffy chirped as she pulled the stake from her waistband and leapt over the startled vampire's head. Surprised, the vamp dropped the young woman and turned to face Buffy, who now stood behind him, hands on hips. "Way too slow, fangboy," she shook her head while throwing a punch into his gut. She smiled with a dark satisfaction, "Really," she said, punctuating her commentary with a flurry of kicks and punches, "I'm shocked you picked up at all, dressed like that. I mean, talk about fashion suicide." The stubborn vamp jumped back into the fray, his momentum impaling him onto Buffy's stake. "Or… real suicide." Buffy added lamely, watching the dust settle to the ground.

"That was easy enough," she finished, dusting off her hands and tucking her stake neatly back into her waistband. "Now just to find William."

Much to her unvoiced disappointment, she didn't find him again that night.

* * *

The way she moved when she was fighting was intoxicating. Spike watched her in wonder from the shadows behind the Bronze. He'd noticed her slip away from him in the crowd, and had followed, watching her scan the crowd, and spotting the disco-dazed vampire lurking in the corner at the same time she did. He hadn't had a chance to watch her fight very often in the previous weeks, having cleaned out much of the dangerous demon population himself. Now that he had seen her fight, a tight bundle of fury and righteous justice, he wasn't sure he wanted to keep doing such a good job of keeping Sunnydale's resident evil population in check. The Slayer side of Buffy was turning out to be just as beautiful as the Buffy-side.

"Whatcha thinking?" Her voice interrupted his musings.

He looked up at her in mild surprise. It was only Tuesday, but apparently she had dropped by the Espresso Pump at the exact time he had chosen to drift off at one of their sunlit tables. He was definitely losing his edge if he couldn't pick up on the Slayer approaching him. "I was thinking about you actually, luv." He watched the faint blush spread across her cheeks with satisfaction.

"Me?" She squeaked in reply, sitting down across the table from him, settling the books she was carrying down on the table. "What about me?"

"Where it might have been you disappeared off to the other night, for one." He replied, smiling slightly at her to take the sting out of the comment. He'd been the one who had snuck away really. "Whether you would still be interested in that date, for a second." He was rewarded with an even stronger blush. It was a bit thrilling, to have both a young woman showing interest in him, and in having the ability to make a Slayer blush – even if it was innocently enough.

"I… you were serious, then? You really want… to take me on a date?"

"What about Saturday afternoon?" He replied, an earnestness in his voice he hadn't intended.

"I… I would love to." Was her stuttered reply. He could see the inner debate running through her head. "I… I can't though." She continued. "Angel…"

He ground his teeth. Did she have to say his name?

"I don't think it's really right to go on a date with someone when you're seeing someone else." She continued, just as Spike recalled that he wasn't supposed to know her "boyfriend's" name.

"So his name is Angel?" He commented lightly. "Sounds like a poofter name to me." He wasn't going to just let it slide.

"I still don't know what poofter means, you know." She replied, her serious expression melting into a teasing one.

"So come with me on Saturday and I'll tell you." He replied, letting his mouth run off without him.

He watched her pause for a moment. "Only if it's like a not-serious date." She said finally. "And you tell me what that nickname of yours is."

"I'll let you guess." He offered, "Think that's more than generous when you won't accept an actual date."

He wasn't sure he'd ever been so happy to see someone nod their head in acceptance.


	7. Chapter Six

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Six_

Buffy sat in the library, an antique-looking book balanced on her lap. A frown was spread across her face. "How on earth am I supposed to compete with that?" She exclaimed, poking almost angrily at the page before her.

Willow stood up from where she was sitting to look at the drawing Buffy was busy jabbing her finger into. A young woman in a fancy, frilly pink dress in a rather out-dated style stared blankly back. "Uh, Buffy?" Willow began, "I don't really think she was all that effective at slaying dressed like that." She paused, "Unless you mean how she was at French, 'cause she might be competeable for that?"

Buffy sighed in exasperation. "I don't mean for French or slaying… I mean for getting Angel's attention." She waved a hand at the picture, "This is what girls wore when he was alive. And they were gorgeous." She stared at Willow hopelessly. "They must all have been gorgeous." She stared down at herself, and her voice came out sounding surprisingly small, "How do I compete with that?"

Willow nibbled her lower lip as she settled down next to her friend. "Buffy, I think if Angel was really into girls who looked like that he'd be spending his time giving cryptic warnings to the girls down at Shakespeare in the Park, or maybe at a pioneer village." She let her hand rest on Buffy's shoulder. "If he's still here and talking to you, he probably likes you for being who you are."

Buffy looked up at Willow, her eyes shining slightly. "You really think so?"

Willow gave her a nod and a weak smile. "And just in case I'm wrong, we can probably find you a Halloween costume that looks just like that. Maybe this weekend?"

Buffy's mouth tightened a little, and she looked away from her friend as a faint blush crept into her cheeks. "I'm kinda busy."

"Busy?" Willow replied quizzically. "What are you doing this weekend? I mean, the history project isn't due for two weeks yet, and you aren't really the do-it-ahead-of-time type. Not that you couldn't be." Willow added hastily.

"I… um… I kindasortahaveadate." Buffy mumbled, still looking away.

"A date?" Willow gaped. "No wonder you're worrying about impressing Angel! A date!"

"It's not with Angel." Buffy replied softly, her eyes mysteriously drawn to a crack in one of the ceiling tiles.

"Not with… Angel?" Willow gasped. "Buffy!" She pulled on Buffy's hand, "What have you not been telling me?"

"It's not really a real date," Buffy began, turning to face Willow, horribly aware of the blush staining her cheeks. "It's with William."

"The coffee hottie?" Willow squeaked.

* * *

"Yeah, the coffee hottie. But his name is William," she had insisted before explaining the whole situation to an alternately amused, shocked, and excited Willow. Though at the moment she was having trouble remembering the logic of the whole plan. If picking an outfit had been difficult before, it was now the most epic challenge she had ever faced. Seriously, even the Master paled in comparison to this. Sortof, anyway.

Here she had to walk a very tight line between finding something pretty and flirty and good for a Sunday afternoon date, but also not so flirty as to encourage William too much. Because even though he was hot and fun to talk to and a really good listener, she was technically dating Angel. At least in her head she was; when she thought about it, she wasn't entirely sure that Angel had come right out and agreed that she was his girlfriend – but that wasn't what mattered here. What mattered was dressing appropriately for the occasion without dressing… well, _sexy_ enough for it to border on possibly cheating.

Because if there was one thing Buffy Summers did not do, it was cheat. At least, that's what she kept telling herself as she wavered between the short denim skirt and the longer tan one, and the short, black leather one that her mother didn't know about, but after seeing William at the Bronze, she had a feeling he would appreciate.

She was doomed.

* * *

Spike watched her as she walked towards the Espresso Pump. He had agreed to meet her here for their "date" – or as he was thinking of it, his one real chance to show the girl a good time and make her forget about the poofter. She deserved better, after all. And to be fair, that better didn't include him either, but he'd be damned (more damned) if he wasn't going to at least try his luck.

She was dressed in a black blouse and a tan skirt, her heeled boots suggesting something of the predator that he knew was there. She looked beautiful to him. And the smile that lit up her face, whether she realized it or not, when she spotted him, warmed him straight to his toes. Metaphorically, anyway.

"You look lovely, pet." He murmured in her ear as he slipped beside her, matching her stride so she never paused.

"Thank you," was her whispered reply, "I was kinda leaning towards this other skirt," she met his eyes, "But I had a feeling that black leather skirts weren't really suitable Sunday afternoon attire."

If she only knew what she was doing to him, Spike found himself thinking. Her eyes sparkled mischievously at him, the green of lush forests in dappled sunlight. He could drown in those eyes, if he were to let himself. And he couldn't help but wonder if it was the poet or the predator that was begging to.

She smiled at his lack of reply. "I guess it's just as well I didn't wear it," she teased, "Since just mentioning it has you speechless."

"Only speechless 'cause I've got the mental image," he replied, his tongue curled behind his teeth in a leer that was only half-mocking.

"Pig!" She laughed, throwing a punch at his shoulder. A punch that would likely have propelled him into the wall of the building they were walking by if he were human. It was that secret knowledge that kept the smug smile on Spike's lips. She might not be right for Angel, but the predator in him was beginning to think that maybe the normal life she wanted wasn't actually the life that she needed. And maybe that life _could_ have room in it for a vampire with a soul. Just one vampire with a soul, preferably.

"So what are we doing?" She asked him brightly, her hands swinging by her sides.

"Going on a date." Was his cryptic reply.

She rolled her eyes at him, "I meant what are we doing on the date."

"Can't it be a surprise?"

She'd stared at him for a long moment, "Really?"

"Really what?" He cocked his head to gaze at her. "Really a surprise?"

"Yeah," she turned her head to face forward, "Surprises and me are usually kinda un-mixy things."

"You do beautiful things to the English language, luv." He said dryly, watching with amusement as her nose wrinkled slightly, whether in embarrassment or anger he didn't know. In some ways, he didn't care. He was beginning to realize that she looked beautiful in any mood.

"Point being," she began, her voice a little stern, "I think I should at least know where we're going."

"To the park." He replied with a smile, "Where else would we go on a sunny afternoon?"

* * *

There were lots of other places Buffy could think of going on a sunny afternoon. Though they mostly seemed to consist of places that involved training, studying, or Slayer business. William's casual mention of the park brought her straight back to when she was younger. Before slaying, before Sunnydale, when a more innocent Buffy would go to the park with her father and mother on picnics, or who went to the park with her friends to ogle the cute guys who rode up and down the paths on their sporty racing bicycles or jogged by shirtless. And the smile that William gave her when he caught her gaze had something inside of her melting. She wanted that normal life, that normal relationship so badly… maybe she was ignoring the exact thing that she wanted so badly.

The feeling only increased inside of her when they arrived at the park and William pulled a blanket and picnic basket out from a small stand of bushes. "Seriously?" she exclaimed, "You went through this much trouble?"

He shrugged it off, "Told you I'd show you what a girl like you deserved." In the slightly rough tone of his voice Buffy began to read an emotion that she had guessed at, but not really hoped for. He really liked her. It made the teenage girl in Buffy want to squeal in utterly senseless happiness.

In the space of a few minutes she found herself settled on the blanket, in front of a small and mostly empty playground. She stared at the worn fabric of the blanket. It was both soft and obviously old. It reminded her of the blankets her mom would pack for the family picnics she remembered so fondly. "Some lunch?" William interrupted her thoughts, passing her a bagged sandwich and a can of her favourite pop.

She gazed at the can in her hand for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips. "You remembered, didn't you?" She asked finally, her eyes squinting slightly in the sun as she looked at him. "The pop I was drinking at the Bronze."

He quirked a smile at her, dipping his head in a slight nod. He was almost a little hard to look at, his pale hair reflecting the sunlight. His blue eyes had her drawn in though, and for a moment she wondered if she could drown in eyes like his. No, not eyes like his – his eyes. The ones right in front of her. The ones connected to the guy who she was beginning to realize had his heart on his sleeve. The ones that kept catching hers as she nibbled on the salad and sandwiches he had packed for their lunch.

"Will." She said finally.

"What?" He mumbled in reply from behind a bite of sandwich.

"Your nickname. You said I could guess at it." Was her idle reply.

She listened to his extended exhale. "Alright. Fine. Guess away."

"Will." She repeated firmly.

"Nope."

"Willy?"

"Do I look like some tosser bar owner?"

Buffy frowned. "You know Willy's?"

He gave her a rueful glance. "Does the fact I wish I didn't make up for the fact that it exists?"

She laughed at that. "Maybe. A little bit." She took another bite of her sandwich. "Liam?"

He shuddered at that one. "Definitely no. Know an unfortunate bloke with the name though." He gave her a knowing look, "Trust me on this one – never trust a Liam."

She found herself laughing at all his replies to her guesses. She ran through everything she could think of, suggesting ever more ridiculous possibilities. "OK, I think I've really got it this time." She said between giggles, her sandwich long gone. "I'm thinking… Blondie?" He actually growled at that one.

* * *

It was a weird walk home, Buffy decided. They walked together in oddly companionable silence, William swinging the basket, now mostly empty except for the blanket, in one hand. Buffy found herself walking close to his side, a smile playing on her lips. She couldn't remember spending an afternoon in such a relaxing way – feeding birds the crumbs and crusts of sandwiches, laughing in the sunshine. It was so different from the rest of her life. The silence in graveyards, the pain, the darkness.

It was with a mild start that she felt cool fingers encompass her hand. She found herself suddenly staring at William, her mouth dry as his fingers intertwined with hers. "This ok?" He asked her softly, the tilt of his head in the direction of their joined hands. Buffy only nodded dumbly, her brain seemingly ready to short-circuit from the contact. His hand was as cool as her chilled fingers as the late October evening began to close in, but they held her hand with a strength she wouldn't have expected from him. She looked at him from behind half-lidded eyes. He looked more like a writer, or maybe one of the graduate students from the university, than someone who would have a strong grip. On the other hand, there was something about him that suggested something else entirely. In some ways, he was as much of a mystery as Angel. But so much more… reachable.

Buffy let herself give his hand a quick squeeze as they approached her house. "Thanks for walking me home," she murmured, coming to a stop on the sidewalk in front of her house.

He shook his head at her, "Not home 'til you're on your doorstep, luv." He held her hand as he walked her up to her front door, bringing it to his lips as they paused at the top of the steps. Something partway between a smile and a smirk played on his lips as he gazed at her, his blue eyes twinkling. "And that's what you should expect from a date, luv." He said in a low and gravely voice.

"Just that?" She found herself breathing, almost instantly hitting herself. What had happened to not cheating? What about Angel?

She watched his scarred eyebrow rise in slight surprise. He took a step forward, his face hovering just inches above hers. "From a first date?" He murmured, one hand still holding hers, and the other lifting to gently push a stray lock behind her ear. "Just that." Buffy struggled to control the sudden gnawing disappointment she felt deep in her gut. His touch was like a feather, and she unexpectedly found herself wanting more. "But since this isn't really our first date," he continued, leaning just a little bit forward.

Buffy felt her eyelids flutter closed, her traitorous body shifting her weight forward and pushing her up just ever so slightly on her toes. His lips were gentle on hers, a fleeting sensation of hunger rippling through her. She opened her eyes as his lips left hers, and she was awestruck by the tightly controlled desire she could read in them. "Goodnight, Buffy." Was all he said before he disappeared into the rising dusk.

Fingers raised to brush her lips, Buffy entered her house slowly, leaning back against the door as she closed it behind her. Her eyes closed slowly, she'd thought her kisses with Angel had been intense. She'd never dreamt a normal guy could make her feel this way.


	8. Chapter Seven

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Some lines are borrowed from the episode, "Halloween". P.S. This likely won't make much sense unless you remember at least roughly what happened in the Halloween episode – Buffy becomes her costume of an 18__th__ century lady, forgets she's the Slayer. Willow becomes a slutty ghost, Xander's a soldier. Willow and Giles go take out Ethan which ends the spell (I won't be covering that angle). I'm playing with what happens in between. Hope you enjoy!_

_Chapter Seven_

Buffy found herself going on her patrol that night in a state of mild panic. Part of her was constantly hoping that she wouldn't bump into Angel. Because kissing definitely counted as cheating. Especially kissing that was better than the kissing that had happened between her and Angel. And yet she found herself looking forward to meeting William for coffee on Wednesday, no matter what the consequences were of their date. What she was feeling was a muddled mess. Too much guilt and too much confusion were making things much too difficult.

She found herself actually dealing with a few fledglings that night. With a sense of contented accomplishment she strolled home, reassured that even if her dating life was a mess, things were getting back to normal on the vampire front. Which also meant she once again had her outlet for her frustration. Which was a kinda nice change for tonight, when she had way too much on her mind.

* * *

The next day at school found her walking down the hallway with Willow and Xander. "So how was the big date?" Willow chirped eagerly. "I want details!"

Xander stopped in his tracks and stared at the two girls. "Big date?" He groaned. "I thought we went over this, Buffy. Vampires equal bad. Angel equals vampire. Therefore Angel equals bad."

Buffy and Willow shared an amused look. "Actually, you'll be happy to hear then that my date wasn't with Angel." She announced. She glanced around guiltily, "Just… don't tell Angel, K?"

Xander stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Cause Angel and I are on such good friend terms. With speaking." He continued to stare at her. "Not Angel?" He added, his voice going up a pitch.

"William." Willow prompted. "The coffee hottie."

"We've gotta stop referring to him as that." Buffy sighed, shaking her head. "One of these days he's going to hear it."

"So did he kiss you?" Willow pressed. Buffy flushed. "Oh my god!" She squealed. "He did!" She clapped her hands before pulling Buffy into a hug. "I'm so happy for you!" She pulled away. "Was it good?" She stared at Buffy for a long moment, "It was! I can tell!"

Buffy extracted herself from the hug. "But I'm technically dating Angel." She reminded her overly enthusiastic friend.

Xander snorted. "Couple hundred years old, I'm sure he's dealt with rejection before."

"I'm not rejecting him!" Buffy hissed, her voice softening, "I'm just… reconsidering."

"Uh huh." Willow and Xander shared a look this time.

"Miss Summers," Principal Snyder's voice oozed just behind the trio, "Just the juvenile delinquent I've been looking for." Buffy froze in her tracks. "Halloween must be a big night for you. Tossing eggs, keying cars, bobbing for apples, one pathetic cry for help after another." Buffy turned with a growing sense of dread. "Well, not this year, missy." He continued, thrusting a clipboard into her hands. "This year's volunteer Halloween safety program is shaping up to be the most successful yet, and you're a perfect volunteer candidate, aren't you?"

Buffy shook her head, hadn't she gotten out of this sort of thing with her successful Parent-Teacher Night? She accepted the clipboard and its attendant pen with reluctant hands. "The program starts at four, the children have to be back at six." Snyder added. "Thanks for signing up." His grimace becoming a fake smile as he turned to Willow and Xander.

"He's got such an interesting take on the volunteer concept." Xander said as the principal stalked off in search of more "volunteers" to add to his list.

"On the upside," Buffy mused, "At least it gives me a solid reason for avoiding Angel."

Willow and Xander sighed, shaking their heads in unison. "So did you still wanna find that perfect Halloween costume?" Willow asked cheerily.

"Of course," Buffy replied, her smile warm, "I heard about this great new place. Ethan's, or Edgar's, or something like that."

* * *

She was patrolling when she remembered that she'd made plans to meet Angel for coffee that night. Wasn't it hilarious that she couldn't stop thinking about coffee with William, but couldn't remember when she was supposed to have coffee with her boyfriend? And by hilarious she really meant sad and horrible. She made quick work of a fledgling and dashed towards the Espresso Pump, fingers already crossed that tomorrow night's perfect Halloween costume would be enough to both impress Angel and erase her guilt.

Buffy stepped into the warm glow of the Espresso Pump in slight confusion. She'd run most of the way there and was still a little disoriented, part of her confused as to where William was before remembering she was there to meet Angel. Angel, who was apparently… having a conversation with Cordelia?

"So I told Devon, 'You call that leather interior? My Barbie Dream Car had nicer seats!'" Cordelia's laugh had her blood boiling. It was Angel's laughter that her heart aching.

"Buffy!" He called suddenly, almost leaping from his seat to cross the tiled floor toward her. "You're late."

"So I can see." She replied, sounding a whole lot colder than she had meant to. After all, he was only laughing with another girl. She'd kissed another guy. But he never laughed with her…

"Buffy," Cordelia rose from her seat gracefully, striding over to Buffy. "Love the hair," She smirked, "It just screams street urchin." She strolled out the coffee shop with smug written all over her.

Buffy reached up and raked her fingers through her hair, pulling her hand away with its attendant scraps of hay from the pumpkin yard she had been fighting in earlier. "It's a seasonal look." She smiled weakly at Angel. "Actually, no," her strength failed her, "I should go."

"Don't listen to her." Angel's voice was calm but serious as he grabbed hold of her arm. "You look fine."

"That's really not..." Buffy began.

"I thought we had a date." His eyes were dark and earnest.

"Did we?" Buffy replied, gazing up at him. "Is meeting for coffee at night really a date?"

He stared at her in confusion for a long moment. "I thought we talked about this?" Buffy kept her expression neutral, wondering if the odd empty coldness she was feeling at the moment was just a reaction to seeing him with Cordelia, or if her feelings for him had really melted away in the space of an afternoon in the park. "Listen, if you…"

"No, I'm sorry." It was Buffy's turn to cut him off. "I've just had a really long day." She smiled weakly. "Really. Don't pay attention to me. Snyder conned me into looking after a bunch of kids tomorrow night, and I'm just grumpy about it."

"Are you sure?" Angel replied, his hands heavy on her arms as he gazed down at her.

"I'm sure." She smiled more convincingly. "Meet me tomorrow after six? I'll be home after trick'or'treating then and mom's not home, so no worries there." She pumped up the cheerfulness in her voice, hoping she was doing a better job convincing Angel than herself. She had a strange sense that tomorrow night might just be their last chance to make things work. Or at least, her one chance to make up for cheating.

* * *

Trick'or-treating wasn't so bad. Teaming up with a group of kids to get them maximum candy yield really wasn't an altogether bad way to spend Halloween. After all, if the demons and vamps were happy to play nice tonight, why couldn't she? "Let's hit one more house." She suggested to the kids, most of which had turned out to be surprisingly easy to put up with. And that was when things went black.

Looking around, she was almost instantly overwhelmed. The houses! The lights! The… small red monster? And that was when things went black again.

"Buffy, are you alright?" The female voice asked her as the world swam back into focus.

"Are you hurt?" An authoritative male voice demanded.

"Buffy?" She heard herself asking, as if from far away.

"She's not Buffy." The female voice added, sounding downcast.

"Who's Buffy?" The male voice demanded again, a voice which she was slowly connecting to the strangely dressed man kneeling by her side.

"This is fun." The female voice mumbled. She gazed up at the voice and gasped in shock. The young woman… was barely dressed! "What year is this?" The barely-dressed woman continued.

"1775, I believe," she replied, more out of the polite courtesy that she had been raised with. Talking with someone as scandalous as this young woman would do no favours to her reputation. "I don't understand," she continued, "Who are you? And why are you dressed in such a manner?"

"We're friends." The scandalous woman replied.

"Of whom?" She heard herself demanding, the world threatening to go black again.

"Breathe! Please breathe!" The woman was demanding, alarm in her voice. "You're gonna faint again!"

She struggled to her feet, "I am perfectly fine." She replied, brushing off her skirts. "Now please, I demand to know what is going on." Tears were making her vision blur slightly. Tears were so unbecoming on her.

"It's alright, Buffy." The woman was saying, her hand reaching towards her. She didn't have the heart to move away, but instead lifted her gloved hands to her face, covering her teary eyes and expecting to feel the woman's hand on her shoulder at any moment. The gesture of comfort never came and she lifted her head in brief surprise, only to see the woman's arm extending into her shoulder, her hand apparently merged with her flesh.

Her scream pierced the night as she raced away from there. She pulled her skirts up and ran as fast as she could. Dimly, she wondered if she was running perhaps a little too fast. Faster than normal in any case. She slowed and stood still, listening to sharp cries and screams echo through the night. A howl somewhere to her left set her running again, and sent her straight into someone's arms.

Someone's strong arms. Masculine arms, she was certain. Arms which held her almost fiercely tight for a moment."Buffy?" The voice asked softly.

She jumped back as if burned. Why did everyone insist on calling her that ghastly name? "I'm not Buffy!" She exclaimed, staring at the strange man before her in shock. He was definitely not what she had hoped for. His hair was unnaturally light, shining almost white in the moonlight, and he too was dressed in terribly strange clothing, including a long black coat that most certainly did not remind her of a gentleman.

"Yes, you are." Was his calm reply. "And I'm William. We're friends." He stared at her for a long moment. "And that is a truly ridiculous costume."

"Costume?" She stared at the man for a long moment. "This is my dress. I'm dressed entirely respectably. It's everyone else who seems to have lost their minds!"

"Everyone else, luv?" The man quirked an eyebrow at her. "If everyone else has lost their minds, doesn't it seem more likely that they might be the sane ones, and you're the one who's lost it?"

"I… that makes…" She stuttered. "That makes a certain kind of sense actually." She stared at him, "But I am still not certain I…" At that moment a sudden impact sent her face first into the dirt, a weight sitting on her back.

"Bloody hell," She heard the man growl. She felt the weight lift and heard a thud. She raised her face from the ground slowly, terror scrawled across her features. One of the small monsters from earlier lay still a few feet away from her.

"Is it… dead?" She asked, her eyes wide.

The man shook his head, walking towards her and extending a hand. "No, they're just kids." He took her hand gently and pulled her up, one hand resting on her waist and guiding her up, just as a gentleman helping her out of a carriage would. Something in that gesture caused her to relax slightly.

"Kids?" She echoed.

"Children." He corrected himself, his accent taking on a more refined edge. "Someone cast some sort of spell."

"Spell?" She replied weakly. "As in… witchcraft?"

"It is possible." He replied. "But right now it would be best to get you somewhere safe until you remember yourself."

She found herself clinging to his hand and pressing herself close to his side. "As long as you stay with me." She absolutely was not going to let the one decent person she had met tonight leave her alone. Especially since he seemed to be both willing and able to protect her.

"This is your home." He told her. "I know it doesn't seem likely and you don't remember it, but it is. You have to trust me." He looked at her for a long moment. "Do you trust me?" She nodded dumbly. "OK, get inside and stay inside, and I'll try to find your mates. Can you do that for me?"

"Do you have to leave me?" She murmured weakly.

"It's just for a moment," he promised, pulling her close to him for a brief moment and planting a brief kiss on her head. "You'll be safe inside. I promise."

She stepped into the house that William had insisted belonged to her. She gazed around the front entranceway in a daze, her eyes landing on a picture resting on a small side table. She lifted the picture with trembling hands and saw herself sitting and laughing with two people who she dimly recognized as the scandalous ghost and the man from earlier. "Oh dear," she murmured softly, her eyes tearing up again. "Thank goodness for William," she breathed.

"Buffy? Is that you?" A voice called from deeper inside the house. A tall, dark figure stepped into view. "I've been so worried…"

And then she was Buffy. Buffy in a ridiculous dress and a photo frame clutched in one hand. Buffy standing in the entrance to her living room, the last word on her lips the name belonging to the man who she had feelings for. And the one in front of her, Angel, being the vampire who had apparently hid in her house while the world went to hell outside. When William had been out there. Had protected her. Had headed back into it just to get her friends. And he was just a human…

"Angel." She said weakly.

"Buffy," He closed the distance between them instantly, his arms crushing her to him. "It's chaos out there. I was so worried about you."

Buffy extricated herself from his arms. "Then why didn't you come try to find me?" She asked, her voice hollow. "Why didn't you try to stop it? It was… there were kids. And they turned into monsters and demons… and… and you were in here?" She gazed at him for a long moment before turning to look outside the living room window.

"You have vampire strength and vampire hearing and vampire speed, and a soul. And you stayed in here." Her voice was oddly calm. "While human guys who weren't effected by the spell stayed out there and helped people. And headed back into it to help more." She whirled to face him, her skirts fanning out around her legs as she ripped the wig off of her head. "I thought I knew you." She paused. "But then again, I thought I knew myself. And now I'm realizing that I don't know either."

"Buffy," he began, "What is this?"

Buffy looked at him. "This is me breaking up with you." Her voice carried a note of astonishment in it. "This is where it ends."


	9. Chapter Eight

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_I just want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review so far – your reviews are deeply appreciated and I'm really glad that everyone seems to be liking this story so far! _

_Chapter Eight_

She felt a little like the world might be ending. Standing in her living room in a dress that had no right to be worn in this century, Buffy felt like she had torn her heart out. The look on Angel's face when she told him that it was over suggested that she couldn't have hurt him more if she had thrust a sword through his heart. He hadn't said anything for a long moment and then, just when he looked as if he might have finally found something to say, he had just turned and walked away, exiting her house through the backdoor. She heard it slam behind him as she stood frozen. Had she meant to do this?

"Buffy?" She heard Xander call as the front door open. "Are you here?"

"Told you she was here, didn't I?" William's voice carried a frustrated note to it that she wasn't sure she had heard before.

"I'm here." She said softly, finally turning to face the front entranceway as her friends poured in.

"Buffy!" Willow cried, running to her from behind the William and Xander. "I was so worried when you ran away! But you would be so proud of us! Me and Giles found the guy who made it all happen and…" she trailed off. "What's wrong?"

Buffy shook her head gently. "Thanks for everything, William." She said, noticing that he looked about ready to be anywhere but there. "I don't think I'm going to make it for coffee tomorrow, but maybe next week?" Her voice sounded a little weak even to her ears, and something in William's face told her that he had seen it.

"Yeah, 'k. See you then." He said curtly, before stepping out the door.

"What was that?" Xander asked, her head turning and looking between Buffy, where William had been standing, and the now closed front door. "I thought you guys…"

"I broke up with Angel." Buffy said suddenly, cutting Xander off, suddenly craving silence.

"Oh Buffy," Willow breathed, "I'm sorry. I… is there anything we can do?"

Buffy attempted to smile at Willow. Her face felt like it might never smile again. "No, I'm just really sorry, guys. I feel like… I shouldn't have run away from you."

"Buff," Xander's voice was soft, "You weren't yourself. I wasn't either. And trust me, I'm amazed I didn't run off into the night in the hopes of escaping the craziness."

"Think you guys could catch me up on the what tomorrow?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, of course." Willow nodded, "Giles can explain a lot of it better than we can too." She paused for a moment, "Are you sure you want to be alone?"

Buffy nodded. It seemed to be the only thing she was certain about in that moment.

* * *

She moved slowly, as if she were in a dream, as her friends left the house and she locked the door behind them. Walking into the kitchen, she locked that door too, her eyes straying across the counter, wishing suddenly that her mom was home. Her mom would have taken one look at her and would have rushed her up the stairs to change into comfy pyjamas, and would have had a cup of hot chocolate and an old movie ready for her when she got back. As it was, Buffy felt just the urgent need to get out of the horrible pink dress she was wearing.

Her eyes still dry, though they felt heavy and itched a little with the need to cry, Buffy walked up the stairs, her fingers already working the clasps of the dress. She continued struggling with them until she got to the door of her room. At that point she just tore through the offensive, suffocating fabric with a snarl and threw the now tattered heap of finery into a corner. She had hated feeling helpless. The memories of running away from her best friends, of shaking in fear from the sight of a demon, of _needing_ a man to take care of her, made her want to be sick. In a split second, someone had torn away everything that made her Buffy, everything that made her the Slayer. The creature who had been left behind was nothing like her.

Which was the most terrifying thing. Because up until now, she hadn't thought that it was her strength and her fearlessness that made her, _her_. They had been part of being the Slayer, not part of Buffy. Buffy had been the girl, the Slayer had been the super powers and the sacred duty. Suddenly, it seemed that there wasn't really a line between them at all. Being the Slayer was part of being Buffy. And she _liked_ it that way.

And she'd broken up with Angel.

Buffy let herself fall onto her bed as the sobs choked her throat and the tears finally began to escape her eyes. Curling into a ball, she reached for Mr. Gordo, and hugged the stuffed pig to her. How was it that in one night her whole world could change? She'd been having doubts about her and Angel, but to end it? So suddenly? The sorrow and loss swallowed Buffy whole, and she let it sweep her away and finally, into sleep.

Buffy didn't get of bed the next morning. Her mother was getting back around ten, and Buffy figured that once she took one look at her, she would be okay with calling the school to excuse her. Early in the morning, she had dragged herself out of her bed, her eyes feeling swollen and her bare limbs chilled from falling asleep on top of the covers. She had stood in front of the bathroom mirror and had contemplated getting ready for school in a few hours. The strained face in the mirror had cracked into yet more tears and Buffy did little more than slide into some pyjamas before she crawled back into her bed.

She lay there as if in a daze as the sun rose, lighting her room with the pale gold of morning. She thought about what it meant to stop making the division between Buffy and the Slayer, what it was she had wanted from Angel, why he had suddenly so repulsed her last night. In the end, she found herself realizing that accepting the Slayer as part of herself meant accepting the duty as something that she was willing to carry. As much as she wanted to escape it sometimes, she also needed it. She _liked_ saving people. It felt good to keep Sunnydale safe and to protect her friends. Without it, well, without it she was just another blonde girl who had once been a cheerleader. Being the Slayer was, an opportunity, maybe. She wouldn't go so far as to call it a gift, but it might have been something like it.

Angel also had the opportunity to make things better. To save people and to protect them. But while she had been without her Slayerness, he had all his powers intact, and instead of using them, had done nothing. When she had been helpless, he hadn't been. But he hadn't gotten involved with what was going on, as if it wasn't his responsibility. How was she supposed to except that? His soul might have been a curse laid on him, but wasn't he supposed to glad that he had one? Glad to have the chance to make amends? If she was supposed to be a symbol of his redemption, shouldn't he at least be trying?

She couldn't answer these questions. And the fact that she couldn't gave her the tiny bit of comfort she needed. No matter what else had been going on, Angel just wasn't right for her. There was a fundamental difference between them, and no amount of brooding or sulking or hoping or wishing was going to change that. Ending things between them wasn't a bad thing. Not really. It just felt that way. For now anyway.

Buffy finally sank into a peaceful sleep, the last thought on her mind the almost traitorous feeling of William's arms wrapped around her. There was still a small pocket of hope in her heart yet. Even if she had wanted to end on the thought of her being an independent woman.

* * *

Spike was almost trembling with rage as he stalked back to his apartment. The moment he had stepped foot into Buffy's house he had smelled Angel. He had been instantly reminded of the fine line he was walking, with Buffy not knowing who he really was. The last thing he needed was for Angel to figure out that he was as wrapped up in Buffy as he was. But in the moment he had paused on her doorstep, he had heard he say that she had broken up with the poof. For a second, his dead heart had leapt. For a second, he had imagined having the girl for himself.

His brain had then promptly reminded him that with Buffy, he was living a lie. Follow up on that train of thought reminded him that Buffy had feelings for Angel. Reality then pointed out that she definitely wasn't sounding happy about the break up, and that she had just asked her friends to leave. Dashing into the shadows, he had watched her friends go, and had followed her silhouette as it locked doors and went upstairs and then collapsed onto her bed. He wasn't sure he could entirely justify his night-long vigil of her house, but he knew, somewhere in his heart, that she shouldn't have had to be alone.

Dawn had brought with it the morning motions of people heading to work, and Spike had accepted that he couldn't stay in her front yard, watching her occasionally rise, only to go back to bed, perhaps in another fit of tears. Every step he had taken away from her house had fuelled his already confused thoughts, and by the time he reached his door, Spike was as angry at himself as he was at Peaches.

Because at some point she would find out that he was a vampire too.

* * *

By the end of the week, Buffy could think of Angel without bursting into tears or questioning whether she had made the right choice. She had told her mother a slightly edited version of the story, that is, a boy had made her cry, and her mother had launched an all-out campaign to make her feel better. The living room table was suddenly home to a woman's empowerment book and the kitchen was stocked with fresh-baked cookies which Buffy was indulging in with wild abandon. Willow had been quiet and sympathetic for a whole day before reminding Buffy about "her coffee hottie" and Xander seemed to be of the opinion that spending more time with friends and less thinking about guys was an even better option. For once, Buffy found herself agreeing with Xander.

She had to admit, that now with the guilt out of the way, she did have feelings for William. And they'd had at least some role in her breaking up with Angel. After all, William had made it his problem to be out there helping people, and helping her, even when the world was looking pretty scary. Dimly, she could also remember him knocking out one of the monster-children and coupled with the way he looked at night, she was beginning to think that he was a little tougher than the William who read books in a coffee shop image let on. Maybe even tough enough to find out one day about her being a Slayer, and being okay with it.

Maybe. At the moment she had slightly more pressing issues. Like, what it really meant to be a Slayer, and to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and what really accepting this as her fate might mean. And what she really wanted from her life. That was a biggie too. Which was why she found herself in the library on Friday afternoon after classes. It was supposed to be her one night off from training with Giles, and Xander and Willow weren't there. But that was what she had wanted: a Slayer-to-Watcher heart-to-heart.

"Giles?" Her voice echoed a little in the empty library.

"Buffy?" Giles sounded genuinely surprised, "It's Friday. Are you actually willingly here of your own accord?"

Buffy smiled. "Uh, I think so. Assuming accord means that I'm here on purpose. 'Cause I am." Her smile faltered a little. "I wanted to ask you about being a Slayer."

"Oh?" Giles left his office and gestured to the chairs nearest Buffy. "It's interesting that you say that. I've received some fascinating news from the Council." He looked at Buffy expectantly, an excited glow in his eyes.

Buffy smiled a little, "Go on, Giles, I know I'm not gonna get the answers I want until you've had storytime."

"It seems that a second Slayer has been called! It's entirely unprecedented, but it seems that your death, no matter how momentary, was enough to cause the next Slayer to be called."

Buffy sat frozen for a long moment. It seemed as Giles were speaking from far away, though his face was decidedly animated as he went into theories and hypotheses on how the Slayer line continued and was passed on. "Wait." She said finally, "You mean right when I'm getting to be ok with this, some other girl gets to be the Slayer?"

Giles looked at her with a very strange expression. "I thought you would take this as good news? Since you have always expressed a desire…"

"It's not about what I expressed," Buffy interrupted, "It's about what I am. Who I am. I am the Slayer, Giles!"

"Of course you are." He replied calmly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "I think you've proven that much at least." He regarded her with an almost fatherly affection, "It appears that there are, for possibly the first time in history, two active Slayers. As things have been remarkably quiet here for the last few months, there's no reason for this new Slayer to leave her home. I merely wanted to give you all the facts. In case you wanted an opportunity to…"

"Be something else?" Buffy finished wryly.

"To explore your other options with more freedom." Giles finished.

Buffy's smile returned. "That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about, Giles. The other night, when we all did the costume-changy thing, I realized that I hated not being able to be me. And me included all the things I thought were just the Slayer. Like, it turned out that I need to be the Slayer to be me." Her forehead wrinkled, "Does that make any sense?" Giles smile was all the answer she really needed to continue. "I guess, I always kinda thought of the Slayer as being something separate from me, and suddenly I'm thinking that it's not so separate at all."

Giles seemed to be studying her with a quiet thoughtfulness. "I'm afraid that I've been a little remiss as your Watcher, Buffy." He began, "There are certain things which I have taken the liberty of dispensing with, in light of your unique style." He stood and walked over to his office. For a long moment Buffy sat, wondering what Giles could be getting at, and what required moving and shuffling so many papers and books. "Here," he said finally, emerging from his office and stepping lightly to the table. "This is the Slayer Handbook."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "There's a handbook?"

"Most of it is rubbish, really," Giles continued, as he handed the somewhat heavy tome to Buffy, "But it may describe something that may be of use. Or it may just be enlightening for you to read it, and recognize how… differently… you handle the calling."

"I have to read this?" Buffy exclaimed, her eyes going even wider.

Giles smiled again, "Only if you want to."


	10. Chapter Nine

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Note – I make reference to the episode "Ted" and borrow a few quotations from "Surprise" in this one. After this, its going to branch a bit more decidedly from season two…_

_Chapter Nine_

"You're following Buffy." Angel's voice cut through the night.

"And 'm not the only one." Spike replied curtly, "Only I think what you're doing amounts to stalking the bird." He took a long drag of his cigarette. "I'm at least willing to lift a finger if she needs it." He sensed Angel's presence behind him, and noted the sudden stiffening of his figure with a smirk.

"How did you hear about that?" Angel's voice was dark and menacing now, though Spike had long ago stopped fearing it. Hating it though, that was another story.

"Rumour mill." He flicked his cigarette stub onto the ground, the falling ember a falling meteor in miniature. "S'not every day a vamp gets dumped by the Slayer." There was guilt down inside, haunting and gnawing at him, but the cruel words felt almost brutally satisfying despite it.

He hadn't expected Angel to emerge from the darkness to stand beside him with a sigh. "It's for the best." His voice suggested a heavy heart, and for a moment, Spike almost felt a twinge of sympathy. "She deserves a normal life; a normal boyfriend."

Spike snorted. "She deserves a normal life," he agreed, "But it ain't what she needs."

From the corner of his eye he could see Angel turn to him slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

Spike shook his head and gestured across the graveyard. In the distance, Buffy's silhouette fought two vampire fledges, pale moonlight illuminating the scene and transforming it into a shadow play. Her movements were filled with grace and deadly power, and in another minute the two fledglings were nothing but dust. Spike's voice carried just a touch of awe in it as his eyes followed her figure, "A creature who dances like that would get bored of normal." At least, that was what he was secretly hoping.

* * *

Wednesday came almost a little too quickly for Buffy. It had barely been over a week since the night she had broken up with Angel, and she was still wading through the emotional backlog of the realizations that had accompanied that night. She had even tried reading the Slayer Handbook. Which was, at least up to page 52, apparently the sort of rubbish Giles had mentioned: rules, regulations, "necessary" readings – she understood why Giles had thrown it pretty much out the window for her. But Wednesday meant coffee with William. The first time she had seen him since that night. And the almost forced pressure of facing him and the emotions she knew she was starting to feel for him.

He was sitting where he usually was, with two cups sitting in the place where Buffy's one drink usually sat. "What's this?" She asked quietly, watching how her voice, though barely above a whisper, sent his head jerking up out of his book. His blue eyes regarded her with a twinkle.

"I figured that after the other night I could officially join the "Sunnyhell is weird" club you have going. Wanted to celebrate by getting you a choice of drinks." His eyes shone with mischief. "You've mentioned before how much you preferred having your choice.

Buffy sat, an odd smile playing on her lips. She reached to open the one nearest her, but William's hand caught hers in mid-air. "That's cheating." He admonished. "You need to try each and then decide."

Buffy gave him a slightly incredulous look. "You're going to play a game with coffees instead of asking questions about what happened?" She took a deep breath. "Or what happened between us last weekend?"

"Figure I can chalk the first one up to strange things happen to you," he replied lightly. "As to the second," he added, his voice dropping slightly, "Decided to follow my mum's advice and not ask questions I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to."

For a moment, she was floored. She had never met anyone quite like William. And not demanding answers from her? That was just adding to the uniqueness. So she shrugged, and played his game.

* * *

Spike was biding his time. This was the third Wednesday since his coffee "dates" with Buffy had resumed, and he was being very careful to play it slow. She had told him last week about how she had broken up with Angel, how she had realized that she didn't really know him, how she needed time to know herself. The look in her eyes as she had mentioned the final part haunted Spike in his waking moments. The shine of her eyes as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, shyly suggesting that she needed time, but that she still… wanted him.

The thought had shocked him. And deepened the growing guilt he felt for continuing his lie to her. Any night now she would need help on patrol, and he would be the one to leap out and save her. And in that moment, no matter how grateful she might be for her life, the moment she saw through the lie, her fiery temper would ignite. The flames of that might just be the ones that ended his unlife.

He still sat there though, waiting for her arrival in a pool of sunshine, playing his game. His game that he had no way to win.

"Hey." her arrival was quiet today, again. "So you know how I had suspicions about that guy my mom was dating?"

Spike nodded, remembering the story of how she had walked into her kitchen to find her mother's new boyfriend cooking. Wasn't a particularly nice way to meet someone dating your parent, he supposed, but it hardly seemed to call for the fury Buffy Summers had brought to call on the bloke.

"I was right." She sat down, one leg artfully crossing over the other. "He was an evil, homicidal robot." She was beautiful when she was self-righteous, Spike found himself thinking. Unfortunately, he was beginning to find that he thought she was beautiful in every mood.

Her face turned downcast rather suddenly. "But not…" she started softly, her voice a little choked.

Spike felt his forehead crease. "But not what, luv?" He leaned forward, towards her.

"But not before… I thought I killed him."

Spike sat back, stunned. "Just how did he manage that?" He heard his voice ask, an initial disconnect neglecting to remind him that he had just put her in a difficult place.

He watched her struggle for an answer, sympathy and regret rising into his throat. "I pushed him down the stairs. We were fighting. And he was dead." She smiled weakly, "Except then he came back and turned out to be an evil robot who wanted to drag my mom off to some creepy 50's reject lair."

Spike frowned, he could see that despite her attempts to shrug it off, the situation had left its mark on her. "I just keep wondering," she said softly, "What if it had been a human guy? I mean… I would have been a murderer."

He stared at her for a long moment before reaching across the table. Her eyes were trained on the table, her fingernails tracing scratches in the tabletop. He touched her chin lightly, bending her face up to look at him. "You will never be a murderer, Buffy." He murmured, his thumb tracing the side of her face.

She'd smiled a little sadly. "There are things you don't know about me, William," she replied. "There are things I still don't know about myself."

He made sure to change the topic then, though part of him wondered if, for once, Spike could have helped her more than William ever could.

* * *

"_So then we walked in on Giles and Ms. Calendar making out." _

Her words were dogging his steps as he walked towards the high school.

"_He was all, 'Jenny, I don't think I could bear to lose you.' Which is actually kinda sweet, but still – teachers, eww!"_

It couldn't be, after all. It was a terribly long shot.

"_Jenny?" He had asked, his attention caught by the name. The name that had echoed in his head on the worst of days, when the pain of losing Dru had hurt the most._

"_Yeah, our computer teacher. And she's kinda a techno-wiccan, or something like that. You know… that's Sunnydale for you."_

But a witch named Jenny? In the same place as Angel and himself, though she might not know he was here… It was too big a coincidence not to check. Just check. That was all. After all, as much as he ached for Dru sometimes, Buffy had in many ways begun to eclipse her. And memories of Dru were tainted by the blood spilled in them. But he needed to be sure. Just in case.

"Jenny Calendar." A deep voice echoed in the computer science room. The room Spike stood just outside the doorway of.

"You startled me." The voice clawed at Spike's brain. It was her! It was the witch who had cursed him and Drusilla on that hill in France. Had it really only been a little over a year since then?

"… responsibility to your people." The voice continued. "The elder woman has been reading signs. Something is different."

"It's nothing." Spike heard the woman reply. "There was a girl, but she has left him. Go back and check again. His suffering is as great as ever."

"There is another issue, Janna." The voice continued, "We know what you did to the children of Angelus."

Spike let a small hiss of breath escape his lips. There was no question now, was there?

"There are two vampires cursed now. You must watch over both." The male voice was commanding.

"How can I when I don't know where Spike is?" He heard Jenny reply, a little scathingly.

There was a long pause before the male voice spoke again. "You do not know? The one called Spike is here in Sunnydale."

For the first time in a long time, Spike ran.

* * *

"This is most unfortunate." Giles' voice trailed out of his office. "Are you certain that your sources are accurate?"

"Giles, when have my sources been wrong?"

Buffy shook her head as she listened to Ms. Calendar and Giles argue. "You would think that Giles would know better than to bring up St. Whats-his-face's Night." She commented to Willow, as she lazily turned another page of the Slayer Handbook. She was nearly halfway through now, though she had long ago given up reading every actual word. She mostly just skimmed through now. And still hadn't found anything particularly useful. Though she and Xander had gotten some laughs out of some of the expectations.

"I worry about them." Xander's voice sounded unusually serious. "I hate it when couples argue."

"Buffy," Giles was walking quickly down the stairs, another old book in hand, "I believe we may have a situation."

"What's the what?" She replied, closing the Slayer Handbook. "Just call me situation-girl."

"Jenny and I have reason to believe that a second member of the Master's lineage may be in Sunnydale." Buffy raised an eyebrow. "The first being Angel," Giles prompted.

"Ah, right." Buffy replied with little enthusiasm.

"Giles," Willow nudged the librarian slightly, "We're referring to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named right now, ok? It's a sensitivity thing."

Giles blinked at Willow for a long moment before seeking out Jenny's eyes for confirmation. She merely shrugged at him. Buffy watched the exchange with little amusement.

"So, situation?" she prompted.

"Ah, yes…" Giles dumped the open book in front of her. "It seems that a master vampire named William the Bloody may currently be in Sunnydale. He also goes by the moniker 'Spike' – namely for his penchant for impaling his earlier victims with railroad spikes."

Buffy stared at the open page. In one part of her brain she heard Giles speaking. In the other, an absolute stillness began to expand.

"Distinguishing features include a scar over his left eye, inflicted by a Slayer during the Boxer Rebellion, whom he killed. He was last seen in America in the 1970s, when he killed his second slayer." Giles continued, listing off a litany of heinous acts and supposed sightings. "Buffy, are you listening? This vampire may be particularly dangerous to you. It is very important that you listen carefully and take this…"

Buffy looked up at Giles, the expanse of stillness in her brain suffusing every cell. "I've seen him," she whispered softly. "I know him, Giles." She stared down at the page, her fingers gently tracing over the picture. "I've seen him in the daylight."

Willow reached over and pulled the book towards her. "Oh," she murmured in horror, her eyes lifting from the page. "Buffy, this is William."


	11. Chapter Ten

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Ten_

_Buffy looked up at Giles, the expanse of stillness in her brain suffusing every cell. "I've seen him," she whispered softly. "I know him, Giles." She stared down at the page, her fingers gently tracing over the picture. "I've seen him in the daylight."_

_Willow reached over and pulled the book towards her. "Oh," she murmured in horror, her eyes lifting from the page. "Buffy, this is William." _

"What?" Xander's voice was beyond incredulous. "There's no way William is a vamp. He helped us out on Halloween…" Xander's voice trailed off as Willow pushed the open book in front of him. He lifted his gaze to Buffy, and took in the tightness around her lips and the hardness of her eyes. "It is him, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

Buffy just nodded. She felt numb. So many things were falling into place: the coolness of his touch, his easy acceptance of the weirdness of her life, the predator gaze she sometime caught, the tingles she felt when he was near. So many things she had taken for granted. So many things she had ignored. Something in her gut twisted and a sudden lump in her throat made her suddenly want to cry. It was always vampires, wasn't it? She couldn't just have feelings for normal, human guys.

"I have to go patrol," she announced, rising from her chair in a smooth, unstoppable motion.

"Buffy, I think it would be wise for us to discuss this further…"

"I'm not in the mood, Giles." Buffy felt like she was either going to cry or laugh; and either one would look ridiculous in front of Giles. She strode towards the library doors, conscious of her friends' gazes. She paused, "It's ok, Giles," she said, sounding more confident than she felt, "If I see him, I'll find out how it is he could be in daylight and not go dusty, and then I'll dust him."

"Wait." Ms. Calendar's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. "There's something else you need to know."

All eyes turned to Ms. Calendar, who was hanging her head slightly. "He has a soul." Her voice was clear, betraying no emotions. "You may want to bear that in mind before you try to kill him."

Buffy flinched at the teacher's words. Kill seemed too harsh a word and too real a concept. How was she even supposed to fight William? He had been her _friend_.

"How do you know for sure?" Giles sounded oddly calm, as if he had already guessed at the answer.

"Because I'm the one who gave it to him."

* * *

Buffy patrolled in silence. Her mind was miles away from the graveyard, but at the same time, her senses were on overdrive. Every car passing on the street outside the graveyard, every strange animal call, every breath of wind in the tree branches mocked her. She could sense every fledge before she spotted it, the telltale tingles running up and down the base of her spine and making the fine hairs on her neck stand on end. And beneath it all, the nearly silent whispers of movement in the distance and the dull background hum of tingles that she had been ignoring for much longer than she would ever have admitted. The concept of a real threat being one who approached her had melted away and been replaced with one that could only guess at the motives of a souled Slayer of Slayers.

"Slayer," the vampire hissed, slightly older than a fledge, but still posing little threat.

"Vampire," was Buffy's blasé reply, as she leapt into action. A few good hits and her stake was impaling the vampire's heart. As his body transformed into dust, she saw a slightly more chilling scene form in front of her. Half a dozen vampires were making their way quickly and quietly through the graveyard ahead of her. Luckily for her, they seemed to be unaware of her presence.

She began to creep closer to their path, picking her way carefully to avoid their detection. Beneath her sense of the vampires in front of her, she could feel that easy-to-ignore presence following behind her. Which was when she concocted one of her crazier plans. She was itching for confrontation, and she hated nothing more than being lied to. Why not force the issue? She followed the path the vampires seemed to be taking with her eyes and picked out a fairly clear area in front of an old mausoleum. Angling her approach so she would meet the vampires there, she continued her nearly silent prowl until she was leaning against the side of the mausoleum, her dark clothing blending her into the shadows. She watched the group as they strolled into the clearing.

"So what's a bunch of guys like you doing at this time of night?" she called out the words casually, emerging from the shadows with a toss of her hair. "You're not lost, are you?" her voice oozed innocence.

The vampire in front let out a hoarse chuckle. "Well, boys, what have we here?" He walked up to Buffy, a swagger in his step. "I wonder if it's you that's lost, sweetcheeks."

Buffy smiled coyly, "I dunno," she said softly, "I think I remember my way home."

"Left a trail of breadcrumbs, did you?" The vampire smirked, leaning a little closer.

"We gonna eat 'er, or just flirt with 'er?" one of the vamps behind him called out.

"Yeah, thought we weren't supposed to play with our food." another snickered.

The one in front of Buffy shook his head. "You know how it is," he said with an apologetic smile, "These animals can't appreciate the finer points of chatting up a meal."

Buffy feigned horror for a moment, her eyes widening theatrically. "You mean I might not make it home tonight?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," the chatty vampire replied, his eyes blazing gold and his face shifting with a soft crunch of bone.

Buffy's gaze hardened as she pulled a stake out from behind her back. "Too bad I always get the last word." She replied sweetly, turning him into dust before he even registered the threat. She jumped into the fray, dusting another vampire before the initial shock had worn off the group. Facing down the remaining four, she allowed herself to be surrounded, fending off the blows of three of the vampires, and getting several shots of her own in. It was a gamble, to leave the biggest as the one she ignored, but the background tingle had grown stronger as she fought, and the more risks she took in her fighting, the stronger it was becoming.

She dusted a third vampire and took her time weakening the remaining two, even as she sensed the big one angling himself behind her for his own attack. As she fought off the surprisingly co-ordinated pair, she could sense the one behind her leap. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes flickered closed, waiting for the impact of an angry vampire at her back.

But it never came. Instead a growl echoed in her ears and a black figure seemed to fly in from above, landing heavily on the big vamp. The sound of fists hitting flesh reached her ears along with deep grunts of pain originating from the big vampire. Buffy somersaulted over the pair of vampires she still fought and caught sight of the pale blonde hair she had known in her heart she would see. Thrusting her stake into one of her pair, she watched at the big vamp turned the tables and threw the figure she knew could only be William into the front of the mausoleum.

"William," she called, before she realized what she was doing, "Catch!" She tossed the stake in her hand towards him. For a brief instant, his eyes caught hers, the same blue eyes that had laughed with her over coffee, only now they carried a more deadly intensity. His arm moved with unnatural speed and caught the stake just as his foe charged towards him.

Buffy switched her focus back towards her remaining vampire as the realization dawned on her that she had thrown William her only stake. Muttering a brief curse, she fought the vampire back towards where William still battled the other remaining vamp. She couldn't help but notice the way he fought, his black leather coat swirling around his feet. He fought with a certain cocky determination that she found herself smiling at, even as she doggedly continued her own fight. From the corner of her eyes she saw William's vampire explode into dust, and it was only another second before the one she was fighting disintegrated as well, leaving her face-to-face with William's blue eyes, the fiercest look she had ever received.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he hissed at her, and suddenly Buffy remembered that she was angry at him. "I've watched you, and I know you fight better than that. Leaving your back unprotected! Bloody hell, Buffy, what if I hadn't been here?"

She stared back at him coolly. "Maybe I wanted to test a theory." she spat back. "Guess what? It worked."

For a moment he looked suitably flabbergasted. Then something in his features hardened, his jaw twitching and his blue eyes freezing into ice. "And what theory would that happen to be, luv?"

To her credit, she didn't even flinch when he hurled the endearment like a knife. "I know what your nickname is," was her equally cold reply.

She watched his features get even harder. "What of it?" he snarled.

She turned on her heel, suddenly wanting nothing more than to put a few steps between herself and the dark, angry creature that wore William's face. "Spike." she said the name as if it were vinegar in her mouth. "Or do you prefer William the Bloody?" She continued, turning to face him again, her expression one of disgust.

She watched his jaw twitch again. Something soft and fragile inside her was splintering into pieces, crying at the unfairness of it all. William was the one who had been different, who had understood and cared and laughed… She buried the emotions beneath a veneer of ice.

"Don't expect you to understand, Buffy." He began, his voice quiet and hard.

"No," she interrupted. "You do_ not_ get to call me Buffy."

"What then?" he hissed, fury in his voice and his expression, "Miss Summers?" he sneered. "Bit of a stretch that. Implies manners and a lady-like presence." Buffy felt the soft and fragile thing falling into pieces even as darker emotions rose to the bait. "Or do you just prefer Slayer?" She didn't answer him. He lifted an eyebrow, his features smoothing slightly. "So what is that's got your panties in a bunch, Slayer? Hate being rescued, or something else crawl into your bonnet?"

"You lied to me." Her voice was calm, collected. It was the opposite of how she felt. "You pretended to be someone, and some_thing_ you aren't." He stared at him hard, hoping the icy daggers that were currently piercing her heart would inflict as much damage on him. "You're a vampire. A killer."

He gazed at her with impassive eyes. "Didn' bother you when it was Angel, though, did it?" He'd caught the one hitch in her tirade, the one hiccup in her attack. How could he be evil when he had a soul?

She felt the façade crumbling, the ice in her veins melting into the tears she so badly wanted to shed. "Why did you lie to me?" She whispered, her voice suddenly so much shakier than she wanted it to be.

"No," he shook his head, his voice softening in the wake of her pain, "I never said I was human."

* * *

Spike stared at her, the fury in his system waning in the face of her distress. He'd never meant to make her cry. Or to hurt her. But then again, she was right. Vampire. Killer. Monster. What did he know about being a good person?

"How did you do it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, "How were you in the sunlight?"

It was his secret. His ace in the hole, dug out of the bedrock beneath the hell that was this sunny California town. "S'called the Gem of Amara." He heard himself reply, already beaten by the fists the girl packed in that pitiful pained voice of hers. "Get your Watcher to look it up."

"Why did you do it?"

The next question was the one he really feared. Why had he started this charade? Why had he continued it? Why had he _kissed_ the girl? The fact that she was the brightest, most perfect, the living embodiment of sunshine and everything that could make the world worth being in, probably wasn't the sort of answer she was looking for. He shrugged; at loss for the right words to say. To be near you, his heart whispered, to touch the sunlight that is you, Buffy Summers.

But the words didn't make it to his mouth. "Don't rightly know, I s'pose." Were the words that did.

"Oh." Was her quiet reply. She stared at him with round, desperate eyes, "Did you ever even like me?"

It was then that he was struck by how young she really was. Only sixteen, barely more than a child, no matter that the fate of the world rested on her shoulders. And burdened with all the worries and insecurities of a girl, even as she struggled to be a woman, a leader, and a weapon. It was in that moment that Spike realized that he was well and truly buggered.

"More than you can know, pet." He murmured softly, taking a step forward without thinking.

She stared at him, an empty emotion in her emerald eyes. In the blink of an eye, he was watching her run into the night. Leaving him very alone with his thoughts and his dark memories.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Hey folks! Sorry for the massive delay in getting this chapter out. My laptop decided to die on me and I've only just gotten computer access back. So I hope this chapter meets all your expectations!_

_Chapter Eleven_

_A Vampire Slayer must never forget that she is the only one in all the world. This is a grave and serious responsibility, not to be taken lightly or risked at any cost. Knowledge of the supernatural and soulless evils which plague our world is not only dangerous, but also precious. It must be guarded. So must the Slayer identity. This lonely road is one that the Slayer must walk – for her sacrifice protects the innocents of the world. To fail at this is to risk the battle. To risk the battle is to lose the war. _

_Slayer's Handbook Excerpt_

Buffy threw the handbook across her room with a half-hearted sob. It wasn't bad enough that she felt like the world had fallen out from under her; the stupid Slayer manual just had to rub it in. Page after page detailing the importance of her "lonely road" and her "great sacrifice" resonated with the emptiness she felt. First Angel had let her down, and now William. It was as if she was doomed to be alone forever.

Buffy stared at the heavy tomb that had landed with a hollow thud. Who was she kidding? She _was_ doomed to be alone. The stupid book said so.

"Honey?" Her mother's voice called up the stairs. "Is everything alright?"

_No_, she wanted to scream. "Yeah," she called from her room, "Everything's fine up here. Just dropped my history textbook." The lie slid easily from her lips and she sighed. Teenage girls were supposed to have strained relationships with their parents, but not because of vampires.

"Don't stay up too late studying," her mother's voice was softer now, her slender form in the bedroom doorway. "Sleep is as important as cramming, you know." A knowing look sparkled in her mother's eyes.

Buffy smiled despite herself. "Of course, mom. Have a good night." She watched her mother close her door and listened as her mother readied herself for bed. Her footsteps were light in the bathroom and the hallway as she padded towards her bedroom and the glow that peeped from under Buffy's bedroom door abruptly went black as lights were turned out. Buffy stole a look towards her bedroom window. She had neglected her patrols for the last two nights, unwilling to face William, or Spike, she supposed she should think of him as now. She'd have to face him eventually she reasoned, as she slid from her bed and turned out her bedroom light, cracking open her bedroom window with practiced ease.

* * *

Angel sat in a poorly lit section of the Bronze. One hand was draped listlessly over an otherwise untouched bottle of beer, and his eyes were focused on the grain of the wood table he sat at. His thoughts were on Buffy. When weren't they? It wasn't every day that a vampire was informed that he could aim at redemption just by helping a gorgeous young blonde. A gorgeous young blonde who'd unfairly had their future ripped away by the siren call of destiny and the seemingly spiteful nature of the Powers That Be. He understood that. In a fair universe, he would never have fallen for the blonde. After all, he usually had a thing for brunettes.

"And what have we here?" A female voice interrupted his thoughts, commanding his attention with her tone, and, Angel was forced to admit as he lifted his gaze to take in the young woman who stood before him, with her poise. "Fancy seeing you in a place like this," she continued, "I sorta pictured you more for the quiet pub type."

Angel smiled grimly. "You'd know better, if you knew anything about my past."

Cordelia Chase just shrugged at him, pulling the empty seat across his table-for-one out and sitting daintily upon it. "Who doesn't have a colourful past?"

He couldn't help the curve of his lips. There was something about Cordelia that amused him. The airs she put on, her commanding nature, despite her obvious desire to let someone else call the shots, if only she could find someone actually more capable than herself. Perhaps she reminded him just a little of Darla. In the ways that weren't too painful to think about.

"So what brings you here," she gazed pointedly at his unsipped beer, "and brooding over beer?" She raised an eyebrow. "You know, most men guzzle those when they get the urge to brood."

How did one reply to that? Something in Angel leapt to attention. It had been a long time since he had really enjoyed conversation with a woman, and the few conversations he'd had with Cordelia Chase had offered some small promise of that small pleasure. Here was someone worth a battle of wits. Someone who he didn't need to worry about hurting, since even with a soul, he seemed to be only too capable of causing pain.

"Disapproving of my restraint?" He replied slowly.

"Oh, there was approval," she flipped her hair carelessly, "It was more of a compliment, really. Most men aren't known for their restraint."

Angel shook his head, willing to reveal something of his true nature to someone like Cordelia, "I'm afraid its not one of the things I'm known for either."

She fixed him with a singularly dark gaze. "Pity."

* * *

Buffy strode through the darkened cemetery, her mind still on the lonely thoughts she had been entertaining all evening. A tingle ran down the back of her neck and she impatiently pulled her hair to the side, her eyes sharply scanning her surroundings. "You can come out, Spike," she spat into the silent evening.

"'M not hidin', luv," his voice floated out from behind a nearby tomb.

Buffy strode towards it, her temper rising. "Yeah right," she scoffed as she rounded the stone corner.

"I told you I don't lie." Spike replied calmly, his voice level, as he took another drag of his cigarette. He lounged on a stone bench, his bleach blonde head turned away from her. His free hand gestured at the pile of cigarette butts that lay behind the bench, straight in Buffy's field of view. "Been here for hours."

Buffy stared for a long moment, debating if she should just move on. It was the logical choice, of course, but at the same time, the very Buffy part of her was revelling in his voice, wanting nothing more than her afternoon conversations with William back again.

So she did the illogical, and strolled over to the tombstone across from the bench he still sat on, his boots lifted onto the seat so he looked over the opposite arm from the one he leaned against.

She watched him in profile as he raised an eyebrow. Turning his head to face her head on, he gazed at her for a long moment. "Long night?" He offered finally.

"Longest." She replied, suddenly realizing that despite the betrayal, he was still willing to listen to her. She was the one with the problem. And in the face of destinies and futures and lonely roads, maybe she had bigger problems than finding out a friend was actually a vampire. She hung her head slightly to stare at the ground near her feet, as she leaned against the tombstone. "I've been reading my manual. It's kinda depressing."

Spike snorted in response. "Whatcha readin' a manual for? You're the bloody best Slayer I've ever seen." He smirked suddenly, "'Less of course, you're a robot."

Buffy rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "I'm the best?" She murmured softly.

"Bloody right, Slayer," was his reply. "You don't just fight, you dance." His tone was soft, contemplative; not so very different from the one he had used when their conversations had been between Buffy and William, not Slayer and vampire.

Buffy pulled her sweater closer around her, wishing she'd stopped to grab her jacket. She always forgot that even in California it could get chilly in December. She caught his blue eyes watching her intently as she glanced up. "Why don't we walk a bit, pet?" He offered, "You look like you could use the company."

Buffy nodded mutely in reply. He wasn't the company she had hoped for. He wasn't the William she had thought he was. But maybe the old adages her mom sometimes mentioned were true, and that while you didn't always get what you want, you can always find what you need.

* * *

"It's just not fair, you know?" Buffy exclaimed, as she and Spike strolled across the empty cemetery for the third night in a row. "Normal teenagers aren't charged with sacred duties and sacrifice. It's like, everything I ever wanted, I've had to give up, just because some vampires need slaying and apparently no one else can do it." It took her a moment to realize she had left Spike standing still a few feet behind her.

"Spike?" She asked softly, as she turned around, wondering what had caught his interest. It had seemed impossible a few days ago, but his nickname now ran as easily off her tongue as William had. And the help during her patrols? Priceless. Spike had a nose for trouble.

At the moment though, his gaze was fixed quite squarely on her. "You really think life's supposed to be fair?" He asked her lowly, his eyes unreadable. "You really believe that the things normal teenagers want and do mean anything in the grand scheme of things?"

Buffy shifted slightly, unsure of how to reply.

He stepped closer to her, until there was only a foot between them. "You really think that you're so hard done by?"

Buffy exhaled slowly, a spark of fear igniting deep within her. She had never seen Spike or William look quite so threatening.

"How do you think it feels to suddenly, after a hundred years of drinkin' the blood of the innocents, be forced to feel the remorse for every act? How do you think it feels to watch the woman you loved more than life go up in flames? How do you think it feels to lose half of what you thought was yourself?" His voice was still low, but something in his tone was so broken that Buffy felt a gasp escape from her lips. "Think about it, Princess," he hissed, "You've got it so good you don't even know it. You've got the power, the righteousness, the light. And you've got the knowledge. Every other human in this bloody town has no idea why they come home early and stay home almost every night. Not one of them knows the real reason their husband or daughter or wife or brother won't come home ever again. But you do. And you have everything it takes to fight it."

Buffy took a tiny step backwards. Spike's blue eyes were icy, his voice laden with pain. She struggled to find the words to say, and failed to notice the small rock that lay just behind her. Within an instant, Spike's arms were around her, her weight fully supported though she had slipped and very nearly gone down. It would have been a very undignified land on her bottom, if she had ever made it. Instead she was being held in the way the heroines in the old movies she and her mother watched on Sundays were when they were swept off their feet. And suddenly, when she was just inches from Spike's face, she found herself remembering the taste of his lips and the touch of his kiss.

"I never thought of it like that," she whispered, though with what part of her brain, she wasn't sure.

"Of course you didn't," he replied, pulling her back up onto her feet and releasing her from his hold. "God forbid you be grateful for something as yucky as fighting." He spat the last words, a bitter paraphrase of something she actually had said earlier.

Buffy stared after him as he began to walk away from her, his leather coat flapping around his legs. She shivered, missing the momentary feeling of his arms wrapped around her. "Spike," she whispered softly, her mind slowly processing everything he had said, and the pain he must have felt. Must still feel. "Spike," she called this time. She watched him cock his head slightly, though his footsteps didn't slow, "Wait up."


	13. Chapter Twelve

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_A bit of a light-hearted interlude before it gets a bit angsty again… _

_Chapter Twelve_

Buffy was standing in front of her closet only half dressed. A short black skirt sat low on her hips as she juggled five different tops in front of her nearly-bare chest. She chewed her bottom lip in intense concentration, hanging four of the tops back up in her closet, while she held the fifth between her teeth. She had her hands behind her back, working to undo the clasp of her black lace bra even before she began to turn around.

"That the one you're goin' with then, luv?" The drawling words had her nearly jumping out of her skin, even before she caught sight of the black-clad vampire perching just inside her window, his eyes laughing.

"Spike!" she shrieked, the hanger between her teeth tumbling to the ground, even as she brought her arms in front of her lacy-covered breasts, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Catchin' a show," he replied smoothly, his tongue running lightly over his lips.

"Not funny," she muttered, scooping up the fallen top and the white bra from on top of her bed before disappearing into the washroom. "You know you shouldn't just appear in the bedroom of a Slayer," she continued, walking back into her bedroom, her top half now somewhat better covered in an off-the-shoulder white blouse, "One of these days you're gonna get staked, I swear to god, Spike."

"Me? Staked?" he was smiling at her now, "But then who would the Slayer complain to about how unfair it is that her favourite boots just got covered in demon slime?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, only to be rewarded with a leer. "Shouldn't stick that out, Slayer, 'less you're prepared to use it."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "And why do I put up with you?"

"Ain't that the million dollar question?"

She found herself smiling at the vampire who was apparently trying his best to look innocent (he failed miserably). "I take it I'm not headed to the Bronze all by my lonesome then?"

"Dressed like that?" Spike replied smoothly, "I think not."

* * *

Over the past few weeks, Buffy had found herself letting Spike in. Not just to her home, but also her to herself. She couldn't explain why she found herself trusting him, especially after discovering his lie. But then again, it wasn't so bad to have a vampire to patrol with. Surprisingly, it also wasn't so bad to have a vampire for a friend. Spike understood her darkest moods and moments, in ways her friends couldn't. He was entirely accepting of who she was, the space she sometimes needed, and the very male interest in her? Not exactly unappreciated. The guys at Sunnydale High weren't lining up to sing her praises, so seeing that extra flash in Spike's eyes and hearing the appreciative and sometimes lewd comments made her feel like she was a woman after all. Surprisingly feminine, even when covered in demon slime after hacking something's head off.

It didn't mean that it meant anything. They were friends, and that was all. Really. Which totally explained why she was wrapped in his arms on the dance floor of the Bronze, while her friends watched suspiciously, still not entirely over the discovery of Spike's vampirehood. She heard the song end with a sense that it was happening at a distance as she pulled herself from Spike's embrace. She hadn't known that it would be a slow song when he had gently tugged on her elbow and asked her for a dance. Now, after having spent the last few minutes in nearly full body contact with Spike, she was actually kinda glad it had been a slow song. She had a sneaking suspicion she would have been held just as close if the song had been faster. She also suspected that their dance might not have been quite so chaste.

"Can't talk you into another?" His voice murmured into her ear, sending a barely perceptible shiver down her spine.

"I… um… should get back to the guys," she mumbled in reply, most of her skin cells disagreeing with her and begging to be in close contact with the sexy vampire with the toe-curling accent for just a few minutes more.

"I'm get you a soda then," he smirked, winking at her with knowing eyes.

"Bloody hell," she whispered, beneath her breath. He _knew_ he was getting to her.

"Hey Buff," Xander's voice greeted her, "Getting' a little close?"

Buffy squirmed. "He's…" her eyes trailed after him, "Just a friend?"

"Uh huh," Willow began with her eyebrows raised, "Looks like he's getting more than a little friendly."

Buffy found herself chewing her lip nervously. "He's just…"

"Drop dead gorgeous and sexy?" Willow finished for her. "Really good at patrolling with you? Someone who can watch his own back?" Her eyes held mild amusement. "So you've been telling me."

"Woah, way too much info," Xander protested, following his exclamation up with a sigh. "We just don't want to see you get hurt, Buff," his eyes were dark with sincerity. "Souled or not, Spike's lied once…"

"You think he'll lie again." Buffy finished Xander's thought.

"It's not like I really think he will," Xander said slowly, "I mean, I like the guy. I think Will was a fantastic guy. It's just that knowing that Will is actually Spike-the-evil-vampire…" Xander trailed off, a troubled look in his eyes.

"We just wish you could have had a normal relationship," Willow explained.

Buffy smiled sadly. "I don't think normal is in the cards for me, Wills. Vampire Slayer here. Thought I had a normal relationship going and hey, look how that turned out. Vampire afterall."

Willow nodded, her expression evaporating into a fake smile as a glass of pop appeared before Buffy. "Got you orange, luv. Seem to remember you likin' the awful stuff."

Buffy smiled at her vampire, shaking her head in disbelief. "I still can't believe you don't like orange pop."

* * *

"I think you should invite your friends over for Christmas Eve." Buffy heard her mother say from the kitchen, as she draped tinsel over their Christmas tree.

"Really?" Buffy replied, giving her mother a strange look as she came in bearing mugs of eggnog.

"I know its short notice," her mother continued, "But I'm sure we could use the company."

"Uh, I guess so," Buffy began, "But I kinda thought we were gonna do the whole mother-daughter bonding thing this year?"

Her mother laughed. "Well, I would like that, but you always seem to be running out to be with your friends, and I wouldn't mind getting to know them better."

Buffy smiled, "Trying to keep an eye on me, Mom?" she joked gently.

"Can't blame me for trying, can you, honey?" her mom offered in replied, her eyes warm with love.

Yet again, Buffy felt the twinge of guilt in her gut for misleading her mom. Maybe she deserved to know that most of the time when her daughter was out she was fighting for life or death – and sometimes it was even her own. Or maybe it would just make her worry more.

* * *

The evening had started well enough. Willow and Xander had been more than happy to come, each citing that their families wouldn't mind… which had gotten her to thinking. The look in Spike's eyes when she had invited him to spend Christmas Eve with her family was one she was going to remember for the rest of her life. They had gone even bluer than usual, lighting up like a little boy's, and for a moment her breath had caught in her throat. It took so little to make him feel… what? Happy? Cared for? Wanted? It was breath-taking. Somewhere deep inside of her she felt a strange aching desire to inspire that look more often.

Which was why Christmas Eve found her introducing Spike to her mother, who seemed as charmed by his William routine as she had been. She had felt nervous at first, until she had opened the door to find him standing there, fidgeting, in a bright red sweater. "Not a giggle, Slayer," he had muttered as he swept in the door beside her, "Wanted to get in the Christmas spirit is all." She found herself swallowing her mirth, even as her eyes danced with laughter.

"Mom, this is…"

"William." Spike was suddenly shaking her mother's hand. "William Pratt. It's so nice to finally meet you. Buffy talks about you all the time."

Her mother had blushed slightly, though Buffy couldn't tell if it was because Spike was laying it on so thick, or just because of his accent. Buffy rolled her eyes. "William is my history and English tutor," she lied dutifully, even as she blinked at the sudden revelation that was Spike's last name. She found herself looking at him suspiciously, wondering if it was just a name he had invented on the spot for her mother's benefit. Just like how he was asking her mother all about her gallery. Apparently with interest. Buffy shook her head at the weirdness. Go figure that Spike would also know about art.

When Willow and Xander arrived, the evening seemed to be complete. Eggnog was sipped, Christmas cookies were nibbled, Chirstmas specials were watched – it was as perfect a Christmas Eve as Buffy could remember, as Spike snarked at the elf who wanted to be a dentist and Xander did his snoopy dance along to the Charlie Brown Christmas special. She felt like a normal girl, and the warm look of wonder that Spike's blue eyes sent her every once and a while made her feel even warmer than the touch of rum her mom had added to the eggnog (just for a little flavour – it wasn't like she really supported under-age drinking).

But then the phone rang. And Giles' panicked voice on the other end of the line smashed the illusion and reminded her of who she was. Only Spike's blue eyes, who watched her from the armchair across the room, clearly hearing every word that came down the phone line with his vampire-strength hearing, made her feel a little like maybe this was still okay. That maybe she didn't need an illusion when she could have happy moments like the rest of the evening had been, even if the rest of the night was going to be spent a little differently. She swallowed hard, her gaze swinging to her mother. Provided she could find an excuse to go out, of course.

As if reading her mind, Spike began to rise from his chair. "What's wrong, luv?" he said softly, attracting Xander and Willow's attention.

He was giving her an opening. Buffy wracked her brain. "It's Giles," she said dumbly, hoping that one of her friends would help her as her brain cells ground to a halt.

Xander stared back and forth between Buffy and Spike. "Giles?"

"He needs us to go…" she trailed off. She didn't know what to say in front of her mother and her panicking eyes must have betrayed her.

A tiny smirk stretched across Spike's lips as he strolled over to where she desperately clutched the phone. "Better hand 'im over then," Spike said softly, "Might as well, seein' how he's my uncle and all."

Relief flooded Buffy's body. Thank god for intelligent vampires who could lie well. The irony of her thanks only causing a brief pause in Buffy's mind as she relinquished the phone to Spike.

"Rupert." Spike spoke into the phone. "Heard you need something sorted?" A brief pause during which Buffy could hear Giles stuttering and demanding to know why he was talking to a vampire. "Well, we're enjoying some 'nog courtesy of Mrs. Summers," Spike began, "But if you need us to come right now?" Buffy watched nervously as he nodded gravely. "I know just how to fix that. Ta, Rupes." He hung the phone up with a cheeky grin.

"Got a flat and can't get 'hold of the towing truck." He announced with a smile.

"I didn't realize you were Mr. Giles' nephew," Buffy's mother began.

"Not somethin' I always advertise." Spike replied with a grin, "'Specially when he gets 'imself into fixes like this all the time." He dropped the grin, "'m afraid I'll have to get goin' and help 'im out. I'll try to be back right quick though," he smiled, "Hate to miss out on that hot cocoa you promised."

"Why don't you go with him, Buffy?" Buffy's mother replied, a knowing smile on her face. Buffy blushed slightly, apparently her mother had picked up on the shared glances between them. Though she couldn't argue with the fact that it worked out awfully well in this situation.

"That sounds… I mean, guess you could use the company, huh?" Buffy addressed Spike, a funny shyness in her voice that wasn't entirely put on as an act.

"Couldn't imagine better company," Spike replied, offering his arm to her as he headed for the door.

"What just happened?" Xander asked Willow in a hushed whisper as their confused gazes met.

* * *

"So where's the demon?" Spike asked as they made their way up the street on foot.

"Right downtown," Buffy winced, "Hence the urgency."

"Right then." Spike grinned a little wildly, "Guess we better race there." She rolled her eyes at the space where he had been before he had burst into a run. It didn't matter, she would beat him there – head start or no.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Thirteen_

A week ago she had been laughing on Christmas Eve as Xander did his snoopy dance and Spike mocked elves with dreams of dentistry. A very long week that had actually begun that night: she and Spike had found the demon without difficultly. It had been an ugly thing, bigger than her and Spike put together, but they had put it down easily enough. Best of all, no slime or demon goo to have to drag home to the rest of her mother's Christmas Eve celebrations. For once, Buffy felt like her Slayer life might actually be balanced with the rest of her life and it left her feeling high as a kite – though that might also have been the trace amounts of rum in her system from the eggnog.

The brown-robed figure that emerged from the alleyway behind her had different ideas though. "Slayer," it spat, as she whirled around to face the new potential threat, meeting only a small and heavily hooded creature. "You destroyed my beautiful child…"

"If'n that's your idea of beautiful…" Spike began to quip, bounding to Buffy's side to face the new menace.

"Shush, vampire," the figure interrupted. "Awfully fitting, Slayer," it practically snarled, "Associating with demons even as you pretend to think you're righteous in killing them off."

"Sorry to break this to you," Buffy began with one eyebrow raised, "But your 'child' there wasn't exactly a model citizen."

"And you are so much better, Slayer?" the figure shrieked in anger.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy replied in confusion, "Slayer here, charged with a sacred duty?"

"If you only knew," the figure sneered, "If you knew the source of your powers you wouldn't be so quick to condemn."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy replied, her eyes darkening slightly.

"Don't worry about it, luv." Spike urged, "He's just tryin' to yank your chain."

"You're part demon yourself, Slayer," the figure hissed, "Bet they didn't tell you that."

The figure had made himself scarce in the moments Buffy had stood frozen. "What did he say?" She said finally, her expression one of dawning horror.

Spike was lighting a cigarette, a mask of indifference across his face. "Nothin' important, Slayer, an' you know it. Just wanted to shake you up so 'e could escape."

She had tried to seek comfort in Spike's words, but something about the brown-robed demon had gotten to her. The rest of Christmas Eve she had been much more subdued than before. The next few days she had been quiet and preoccupied, skimming through the Slayer Manual for an explanation of where she got her power from. An explanation she couldn't find. With increasing certainty, Buffy found herself wondering if the reason it wasn't in the manual was because it wasn't something anyone really wanted her to know. What if, in being the Slayer, she actually was part demon?

* * *

"Giles," Buffy stood on his doorstep, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Buffy," he replied, confusion written across his features. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to take the Christmas Break off."

"Well, that's the thing. I bumped into this one demon…" Buffy trailed off, a hopeful look on her face as she gazed past Giles into his flat.

Giles sighed, straightening his glasses. "Of course," he moved aside, gesturing inside, "Would you like some tea?"

Buffy smiled as she stepped over the threshold, the not-quite invitation a trademark of those in the know, "Not really. But if you have some of those chocolate cookies kicking around?" She looked hopeful.

"So this hooded demon suggested that the source of your powers stem from a demonic source as well?" Giles summarized, after she told him the strange-sounding story.

"Yup. What do you make of that?"

"Utter nonsense?"

Buffy pursed her lips and blew a thin stream of air through them, a frustrated whistle. "I dunno. I mean, have you looked through the Slayer Manual? There's not a single word about where my powers come from."

Giles was staring at her oddly. "You read the entire manual?"

"I… well, I skimmed through it. It'd be easier if it had like, an index, or something." Buffy paused for a moment, watching Giles watch her. "Yes, I know what an index is." She rolled her eyes at her Watcher.

"Ah, well yes. I'm not surprised you do." He fidgeted in his seat, proceeding to wipe his glasses clean.

"Uh huh. Totally not convinced, Giles," she smiled. "But I do think the weird hoody-demon could have been on to something. I mean, hello? Slayer powers? Not really so different to what vamps can do."

Her Watcher was frowning. "I can... I'll put in a request to the Watcher's Council," he replied finally. "But I'm not certain why it matters. Ultimately what you do is for the powers of good and certainly is not demonic in nature…"

"Its not about that," Buffy interrupted. "Its about… its about who I am. What I am. I need to know. Its important to me. I have all these… feelings… and its confusing. You know?" He was still frowning and Buffy wondered if now wouldn't be a good time to just shut up. She sighed. "I feel sometimes more like I'm one of the creatures of the night too, you know? More like the things I hunt than the people I protect."

Giles was watching her closely now. "Buffy," he began, "If this has something to do with you spending time with Spike…"

Buffy shook her head quickly, but Giles just lumbered on. "You musn't let his opinions colour your judgement. No matter that he has a soul, he is still a vampire, and you must exercise caution. He is still a demon..."

"And if I am too?" Buffy said softly, her eyes large and imploring. "Giles, if I'm part demon too, even if I have a soul, am I still any better than Spike or Angel?" He didn't have a real answer for her.

* * *

"I still can't believe you didn't make it to the New Year's Eve party at the Bronze," Xander exclaimed, as the trio sat around their table in the library on the first day back to school, "It was like, an epic night to remember!"

"Says the guy who sat around drinking coke all night," Willow added with a smile, "You really didn't miss all that much," she told Buffy, "Except maybe this one guy: blonde, blue eyes, black leather coat?" Her eyes twinkled playfully.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Wow, Spike drinking the odd beer and Xander guzzling pop, that sounds so epic it could just have happened, oh, the night before New Year's?" She shook her head at her friends. "I couldn't just leave mom alone," she added softly, "Holidays always remind her… well, you know."

"Family angst?" Willow smiled sympathetically.

Buffy nodded, ducking her head into her history textbook. Family stuff just wasn't easy to talk about. And the lingering effects of her dad leaving? Touchy didn't begin to describe that topic. So spending one New Year's at home with her mom, eating popcorn and watching old movies? Not such a big sacrifice.

"Ah, Buffy, there you are," Giles entered the room lugging a large black duffel bag. "I've recently contacted the…" he trailed off, his eyes darting around the library suspiciously. He shook his head with a sigh, "I don't even know why I bother…" he trailed off, before focusing back on the trio of students who represented the entire human presence in the library. "It seems that this," he motioned towards the older-looking bag, "Belongs to you." He settled the bag on top of the table, covering the papers, binders, and textbooks that were spread across it. "Apparently a past Slayer actually had a son, and rather than this bag being passed on to you, it was held onto for awhile. Seems he only had the sense to return it to the Council very recently."

Buffy stared at the bag for a long moment as her brain registered what Giles had said. "You mean," she began slowly, "There was a Slayer who lived long enough to have kids?" Her mind was spinning. Her mortality wasn't one of the things she obsessed over, but after the Master, she had come to accept that her lifespan was going to be cut untimely short.

Giles cleared his throat awkwardly pulling his glasses from his eyes and rubbing them gently with the handkerchief that had magically appeared in his hand. "While the Council rather frowns on such things," he began stiffly, "Teenage pregnancies have been dealt with at times…"

Buffy felt some small hope inside her crumple. So no hope for even that small slice of normality. "Huh," she said instead, reaching towards the duffel bag, "So what's in this that should've been mine?" She quirked a smile, "Not that the bag isn't quite the collector's item, of course." She unzipped the bag with a slight reverence, feeling rather disappointed when she came face to face with nothing more than a few dusty weapons and trinkets, a hefty-looking tomb, and a box. "Wow, not really feeling the importance here," she said finally, looking towards Giles.

"They assured me that the contents of this bag would help illuminate your path towards understanding the, uh, source of your power."

"Source of your power, huh?" Xander piped up, standing up to take a peak into the bag. "Oh, weapons!" he snickered, "Think we all knew that one."

"What about that box?" Willow asked quietly, her keen eyes hovering perceptibly.

Buffy carefully lifted it out, unpacking a variety of weapons and Slayer-related paraphernalia first. "It's kinda heavy," she said in surprise, setting it down beside the bag. "And locked," she added, staring at the lock that held the box closed.

"Perhaps…" Giles began, trailing off as Buffy grabbed an older-looking axe from the stack of dusty weapons she'd just unpacked and gave the lock a solid hit with the butt, "We should exercise caution," he finished lamely.

"Puppets!" Xander exclaimed, pulling out the flattened metal figures that lay inside the box. "Your powers come from puppets!" He smiled knowingly, "I knew that boxed set of "Muppets Tonight" was totally worth getting." The other three sitting in the room stared at Xander for a long moment. "What? They're funny…"

"I believe these are shadow casters," Giles said solemnly, pulling one out and examining it slowly. "In all likelihood, this text narrates the story told by them," he gestured to the ancient tomb that Buffy had haphazardly tossed to one side. He set the shadow caster down and headed for the book.

"Hey, look," Xander prompted, lifting up the shadow caster, "I'm a crazy dude going for a walk," he moved the figure jerkily through the air.

Buffy and Willow smiled guiltily as Giles gave Xander a harsh look. "Those are not toys, Xander. They are ancient artifacts that will likely lead us to some revelation about…"

Buffy tuned out, leaning towards Willow conspiratorially. "So Spike was at the Bronze at New Year's?"

A slow smile spread across Willow's face, "Yup," she replied perkily, "And he looked awfully lonely too."

Buffy couldn't help the small, satisfied smirk that slid onto her lips.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_OK, for the most part I'm working off material from Season 7. I'm just also filling in some blanks with my own ideas. I don't claim that this is how Joss Whedon necessarily intended the history of the First Slayer to come across, but for the purposes of this story, what I say here goes. _

_Chapter Fourteen_

It was her birthday and she was sitting in Giles' living room. Not partying at the Bronze. Not hanging out at the mall spending her birthday money from Great-Aunt Fiona. Not even blowing out birthday candles on top of the store-made cake her mother passed off as home-made (she wasn't picky, it really was the thought that counted). Sitting on the lumpy couch in the living room of Giles' small flat had not been part of her plan.

Buffy gazed around the room with a disappointed pout on her lipstick red lips. At least Willow and Xander were there too. Though they looked as unhappy about the change in party plans as she felt. "Giles," she began, "this really had better be as epically important as you made it sound on the phone. We were totally going to go to the Bronze to celebrate."

"Uh, yes," Giles wandered into the room, a mug of steaming tea in one hand, a notebook open in his other. Whatever he was reading from the notebook was providing more than enough distraction to take his mind out of not only the conversation, but apparently the room as he stumbled against the edges of his furniture. He lifted his eyes, "I believe I deciphered enough of the book…" he paused, "That I could no longer avoid sharing the results."

"Important enough to interrupt the Buffster's birthday celebrations?" Xander shook his head, "This must be heavy stuff, G-man."

Giles gave Xander a long look, "Indeed. May I also take the opportunity to remind you how much I dislike that term?"

"So… what did you discover?" Willow asked, her fingers dancing lightly over the shadow-casters that littered the coffee table in front of the couch. "And does it have something to do with these?"

"Quite," Giles began, "The first thing I managed to decipher was the directions for the shadow-casters. It seems that the first pages of the book actually narrate the story told by them." He flipped off the lights to the room, the warm glow of the kitchen lighting keeping the living room still fairly well lit. He motioned towards a strange mechanical box-like form. "Xander, would you help me by placing the correct caster's on the base?"

Xander nodded, "Just call me the puppet master!"

Giles gave Xander a tight smile before turning to Buffy, "This all said, are you certain you wish to proceed?" There was a fatherly warmth in his eyes as he gazed down at Buffy. "Some of what I have deciphered is… not quite what I expected. I fear that they may in fact be more upsetting than helpful."

Buffy smiled brightly up at Giles. "Hey, I'm the one who wanted to know." She nodded, "Can't go backing out just cause I might not like the answers." Giles just looked uncomfortable.

He lifted the ancient tomb from the coffee table and settled it into his arms. He took a deep breath and his deep voice began to intone, "First, there is the earth."

Xander placed the corresponding caster on the base and watched the base begin to spin slowly. "Hey, it moves!" He exclaimed, his glee dying almost instantly as a tribal drumbeat began to fill the room. "OK… cause that's not creepy…"

Giles continued to read, "Then, there came the demons. Of all forms and kinds they began to fill the world and populate the earth."

Xander slipped a second shadow-caster onto the base, this one a twisted and gnarled demonic form. Growls and snarls could suddenly be heard over the drumbeats. Buffy sat completely still, her breath caught in her throat.

"After demons, there came men. They began to fill the world, but they were plagued by the demons. Afraid for their lives, their families, their very existence, they found a way." Xander slipped the shape of several men standing in a group into place. "They found a girl," continued Giles, as sounds of men chanting and the screams of a frightened girl filled the room.

A cold shiver ran down Buffy's spine. This was the origin of the first slayer. This was exactly what she had wanted to know. This explained Giles' urgent call, but not his uncertainty about actually going through with this. What had he found out? What was going to be revealed? Buffy watched the spinning shadows with growing horror.

"And the men took the girl to fight the demons. They chained her to the earth. They had found a way. They took the energy, the spirit, and the heart of a demon." Buffy heard Xander and Willow gasp in surprise, she did not. Her lips merely tightened, her body tensing. She had known, deep down. "They made it pure, so that only the power of the darkness remained." The shadows on the wall were now moving, acting out the story. The girl's form struggled in her chains, the demons raged across from her, the men chanted and formed a circle around the struggling girl. Buffy watched a demon dematerialize with a savage shriek, some strange strand of blackness arching over toward the girl and settling in around her like a heavy smoke, twisting into inky ropes that forced their way into her form.

"They let the darkness into the sacred circle. They instructed it to enter the girl. To empower the girl and to make her strong. The darkness, the power, it filled her up." Giles' voice was choked, his misery as evident as the shadows on the wall. "The girl became the vessel. Her soul bound the power and the darkness. Her body contained it. With the heart and the spirit of the demon, she became more than a girl. She became…"

"The Slayer." Buffy whispered, her eyes focused on the figure of the girl, who now slumped in her chains, was pulling herself to her feet, yanking the chains from the earth so she could stand tall and strong.

"The Slayer." Giles echoed brokenly. The shadows stilled and the music and growls and chanting died away, leaving the room in a hollow silence. "It goes on," Giles said softly, "But it reads more like an early Watcher's Diary, and the translation is much slower." He paused, "There's also the possibility that under different conditions the reading of the story may result in other outcomes."

"Other outcomes?" Xander asked meekly.

Giles nodded tightly, his eyes trained on Buffy, who was still staring at the wall, at the now still figure of a girl bound in chains. "Yes. Possibly it might open a portal, allowing direct communication with the _men_ who did… _this_…" His words sounded more like insults.

"Direct communication?" Buffy murmured, her eyes still on the shadow.

"It would appear to be something that they control rather than the reader."

"Is that possible?" Willow asked in hushed tones, her eyes wide in wonderment.

"So I'm a demon, after all." Buffy interrupted, her eyes swinging over to Giles, her glassy gaze seeing little before her.

"Not a demon," Giles began.

"Just the vessel for one." Buffy finished for him, her voice icy and firm. "My soul holds it in check, right? And my body houses it. That's what the book said."

Giles gazed at her imploringly. "Buffy, please, you mustn't take this to heart or to literally…"

Buffy stared at him, still unseeing. "I'm going to go patrol," she said automatically.

"Buffy? Are you sure you want to go out tonight?" Willow's voice was soft and understanding.

"Its my job. And I need to think." Buffy's voice was cold as she headed toward the door, grabbing her coat with one hand and slipping out the front door without pausing to slip it on.

"Buffy! You don't…" Xander began, his voice failing him as the door slammed shut. "Should we go after her?" He asked the other two people in the room, a helplessly confused look on his earnest features.

"No," Giles said sadly, shaking his head, "She needs time to process this."

* * *

"Stupid, dirty, smelly, vampire." Buffy's words were punctuated by the solid wet thunk of flesh hitting flesh. "You wrecked my favourite skirt!"

"Think 'e's had enough, luv," Spike's voice drawled across the cold silence of the gravestones that surrounded the Slayer and her prey.

"Not until he's sorry," Buffy's punches were getting messier now, the face of the vampire she had pinned to the ground looking less like a face and more like a pulpy mess.

"Slayer, if'n you don't put it out of it's misery now, I will." His voice cut into her like a knife and she stifled a sob as the tears that had been threatening to fall since she had fled from Giles' place began to leak their way from behind her tightly closed eyes.

"Please?" She whispered softly, knowing he had heard her murmured request by the whisper of leather that slithered past her and the sudden lack of a body beneath her legs. She pulled her legs up towards her through the now-empty space beneath her, and curled around her bloody fists as a sob wracked it way out of her small frame.

"Buffy?" Spike's voice washed over her, the concern in it entirely tangible. Buffy tried to wipe the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, not wanting to add vampire blood to the mess that had become of her perfect birthday make-up. "Buffy, luv, what's wrong?" She felt his hands on her shoulders, saw his form imperfectly through the blur of tears, his pale face in stark contrast to the black of his leather duster.

"For my birthday," she exclaimed suddenly, sputtering into tears before regaining an ounce of composure, "For my birthday I got to discover that I'm part demon. Isn't that just fantastic?" Her voice rose and settled on a pitch that sounded strangled and unfamiliar to her ears. "Apparently I'm a vessel, you know? My soul keeps the demon in check and my body is it's house. God forbid the men in the world sacrifice another man… no, they go for the girl they can control. They kept her in chains. She didn't get to choose. _I _didn't get to choose."

"Shhh," Spike murmured, his body settling down beside her's and pulling her close. "You're not makin' a whole lotta sense, luv. You've gotta calm down. Start at the beginning."

Under the soothing whisper of Spike's voice and the calming circles his hands ran across her shoulders and back, Buffy felt the hysteria slipping away. Her voice and her tears came under her control again and she told him everything: her request to Giles, the leather duffel bag, the book, the shadows, the story they told. "So I'm just a vessel," she finished dully. "My soul makes sure the demon only hurts demons. Who knows what would happen if…"

She slowed her words, found herself looking up into Spike's intense stare, "Kinda know that feelin', luv."

"Yeah," she whispered, biting her lower lip gently, "Guess you do, huh?" She flexed her fingers, finding that they had somehow wound themselves into the leather in front of her. In fact, her entire situation suddenly became clear. She was sitting on Spike's lap, his arms wrapped around her and her hands wrapped into the front of his duster. In the middle of a graveyard. Dimly she wondered why it didn't feel as wrong as her brain was telling her it was. The answer presented itself in the form of his lips closing the few inches between them to press lightly against her own.

She'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to be kissed by him.

* * *

Angel watched the couple from a distance. He had seen Buffy storm into the graveyard, had debated going and talking to her, and had frozen in place when she had stumbled across the hapless fledgling. He'd watched her maul the vampire, beating it into submission and then unconsciousness in quick succession. What had happened to the young girl who had licked lollipops on the stairs to her high school while chatting with friends? What had transformed her into this wild and violent creature of darkness? He watched Spike approach her, watched him put what was left of the vampire out of its misery. He watched as Buffy collapsed into Spike's arms. He watched them for what felt like hours. He watched their lips meet. And then he couldn't watch anymore.

He headed for the Bronze, a dull emptiness in his chest. He didn't feel angry. It surprised him that he didn't. Buffy had been his, after all. But then again, the creature he had seen tonight had not been the Buffy he had fallen in love with. No trace had remained of the laughing innocence and adorable smile. Instead there was a misery and an anger wrapped around her, and some darkness within that was haunting her. What was it about being the Slayer that was destroying the Buffy he had first set eyes on?

"Hey, handsome," a silky voice curled around him, "What's got you looking so down?" Angel watched Cordelia slink around him to settle lightly into the chair opposite him. She tossed her chestnut locks artfully. "Especially on such a lovely night as this?"

"Aren't you out a little late for a school night?" he scolded lightly, taking amusement out of the rapid change in Cordelia's features. The composed and elegant woman slipped away to be replaced by the fierce and straight-forward woman she had yet to realize he was becoming increasingly enthralled with.

"For your information," she snapped, "The hours I keep are entirely my own business!"

Angel laughed, "Just teasing, Cordy," he raised his hands in mock surrender.

She sat back with an irate snort. "So what were you brooding about?" She was always sharp and to-the-point, he found it was one of her many traits that were slowly growing on him.

"I wasn't brooding," he interjected.

"Yes, you were. But if you don't want to admit it," Cordelia rolled her eyes, "What were you thinking about?"

"Getting older," Angel replied cryptically.

"Uh huh," Cordelia raised an eyebrow at him. "You were thinking about one of the many things you can't do, and what most of us wish we couldn't do." She looked skeptical. Angel couldn't blame her. She was getting to know him too well through these conversations of theirs. "You were thinking about Buffy."

He stared at her for a long moment. "How do you figure _that_?"

Cordelia gave him an impatient little smile. "Whenever you look off in the distance like you were, like you've lost something so fantastic that you didn't even know it existed, you're thinking about her."

Angel frowned, "I look like that?"

Cordelia nodded, "Yup." She sighed, staring down at her empty glass, "Makes it hard for any other woman to slip her way into your world." Her voice was soft, especially under the music blaring in the background, but Angel heard every word. And his expression softened as her looked at the young woman sitting in front of him.

"Cordelia," he said softly, his voice bringing her gaze back up to meet his, "Would you like to dance?"

He hated dancing. But he would occasionally endure things he hated if it meant that he could see Cordelia's face light up the way it did that moment, her eyes opening wide and her lips falling just slightly open, the sudden vulnerability about her making her sparkle in the flashing coloured lights. He would endure it, if it meant that he would have Cordelia's slim body pulled close to his, her arms wrapped around his neck, her breath and her heartbeat slightly musical to his ears. He would endure it, to feel as accepted as he did in those fragile moments with Cordelia.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Fifteen_

She was kissing Spike.

And it wasn't like kissing "William."

Buffy gasped for breath as she pulled away from Spike's lips, her eyes locked with his. His blue eyes were stormy with passion. His hands ran through her hair, whispered around her body. She felt wonderful. With tentative fingers she touched his face, traced the sharp outline of his cheekbones. She inhaled suddenly, "I got… vampire blood on you," she whispered. She'd forgotten the state of her hands, still smeared with the now-drying blood of the vampire she had beaten to a pulp. His eyes flashed gold for the briefest instant, and she knew she wasn't hearing things when he growled lowly, before fiercely attacking her mouth with his own. She caved under his kiss, drowned in the rush he was making her feel. "Spike," she whispered, pushing gently against his chest, panting softly, "I still need to breath."

He was panting too, she noticed distractedly, She'd gotten more blood on him. His bleach blonde hair was currently marred by smears of dark red blood. He didn't really seem to care. Suddenly, she found herself crushed against him. "Luv, god, Buffy, do you have any idea how you make me feel?" His voice was rough, hoarse with emotion. His lips were near her ear, alternately nibbling at it and whispering to her just how beautiful, amazing, breath-taking she was. He loved the way she moved, the way she fought, the way she danced, the way she smiled. His list went on and on and if she weren't so busy trying to breath as he kissed his way down her neck, she might have wondered if there was anything he didn't love about her.

* * *

"Angel," Cordelia's voice was soft, buried in his chest. "I thought you said you hated dancing?"

"It's not so bad with the right partner," he replied, his voice deceptively casual.

"Ah," was the small, contented response he received as she snuggled in closer to him as the dance floor began to empty. "I think the music stopped," she whispered a moment later.

"They're closing the club," Angel replied.

"Walk me home?" Cordelia finally pulled out of his embrace, her hands still on his chest, her dark eyes sparkling in the rising lighting.

"Well, I can't let you walk alone with all the vampires out there." She smiled at that, he noticed, as he closed his hand around her tiny one.

* * *

He walked her home. Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, was being walked home by a vampire (a souled one, at least), after being kissed by said vampire into a puddle in a graveyard. Life was weird.

Then again, she wasn't exactly human, as it turned out, so maybe life was supposed to be weird.

"Luv?" he had paused at the foot of her lawn, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. "You know that its _you_ – not the demon giving you power and strength and all that I…" he trailed off, his expression unreadable in the darkness of the early hours of the morning.

Buffy looked up at him. She had guessed at this. "That you what?" she prompted gently.

"Buffy," his voice was half groan as he stared at her, finally pulling her in for another searing kiss.

She let herself melt in his arms. What was there to stop her now? What difference was there between them, really? They both had demons. They both had souls to hold them in check. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but now that the truth of it was entering her system, it was filling her with something approaching giddiness. There was no reason to fight this… _this_ between her and Spike. There was no reason to hold back. She was going to die young, so why not grab onto whatever happiness she could find in her life?

"Thank you," she breathed against his lips. He was suddenly staring down at her in wonder. "For making me feel better," she began softly, "And for being there for me… these past few months." She paused, "I honestly don't know what I'd do without you, Spike." His blue eyes shone in the darkness.

"Luv," he whispered.

"Shh," she lifted a finger against his lips, "I have to get inside before my mom starts to wonder if something has happened to me. And if you say anything more," she smiled softly, "if you do _anything_ else with those lips of yours, I'll never be able to leave."

His smirk as she left his side kept her warm the rest of the night.

* * *

"Come in for some coffee?" Cordelia's offer was casual, nonchalance that he could almost pretend wasn't feigned for his benefit.

"Cordy…" he began, knowing instinctively that he should decline. Angel suddenly cocked his head to the side, "There's no one else home, is there?" He felt a twinge of worry. Technically, Cordelia was in high school. She was probably only seventeen, if that. In his wild and wicked past, he'd done far worse than just dance with girls far younger than that, but it wasn't that part of his brain that was thinking now. It was the part that recognized that there should be parents in that dark, empty house, waiting up for their teenaged daughter.

He watched her with sudden comprehension. Behind those dark eyes lay the vulnerability he had glimpsed at earlier, and here lay the cause of both the vulnerability itself, and the hard exterior that protected it. "They aren't home a lot," came her patently indifferent reply, "They go on a lot of business trips." Those dark eyes focus on his again, "Come in for some coffee? Just coffee… I'm just still up for talking, you know?"

Angel put the unspoken words together in his head: _I'm lonely and the house is empty and I just don't want to be alone._ He nodded his ascent and followed her up the pathway to her door. He watched her dig in her purse for her house keys, opening the door with a smooth click, stepping in and without even sparing a backwards glance tossing the golden offer, "Come in, Angel." He stepped over the threshold just a moment after her.

The house was large and lavish, but also cold and impersonal. "The staff have all gone home. My parents offered to let them sleep in the spare rooms, but they have families of their own, most of them." She left her coat draped over the luxurious burgundy sitting chair in the hallway. "The kitchen is this way," her voice echoed down the hallway.

Angel followed in a daze. He hadn't seen this side of the world in years, and it shocked him how little it had changed. No matter what time he thought back to, the wealthy always lived in large, impersonal houses that never really felt like homes. Their daughters were always damaged behind their cool composures. Their sons were almost always like the man that he had once been: slothful, egotistical drunkards or playboys. He felt a wave of sympathy for Cordelia. His parents had been absent much of the time as well. Which was probably why the last memory he had of them was the blood-splattered wall their bodies had slumped against.

"Here," Cordelia's voice cut through his bloody reverie, as she passed him a cup of coffee. "It's only instant, but I seriously can't figure out the coffee machine Daddy bought. I think it does, like, lattes or something."

"It's fine," Angel replied, taking a quick sip and regretting his words almost instantly.

"C'mon, we can sit in the living room," he followed her to a room outfitted in a soft, chocolate brown leather couch set, settling awkwardly in the arm chair as Cordelia nestled onto the couch. "I think this is my favourite room," she said softly, taking the smallest sip of her coffee, "The couch is actually comfortable." She smiled at him, and Angel found himself smiling back.

"Why do you treat me like a man?" he heard himself ask suddenly.

"As opposed to, what? A Labrador retriever?" She stared blankly at him.

"I'm a vampire, Cordelia. I've slaughtered innocents and murdered countless numbers…"

"And you don't anymore." Her gaze was steady, and her voice smooth and sure. "Now you have a soul. Isn't that the whole line that Buffy spews? If it doesn't have a soul, it's a bad monster. If it does have a soul, its good and she can't kill it. Therefore, you deserve whatever second chance you can pull together with all your mental baggage." Her lips quirked into a smirk at that, "I mean really, you can't go on blaming yourself for all _eternity_. At some point you just have to move on and make the best of what you have left."

Angel stared at her for a long moment. "You're kinda wise, you know that?"

Cordelia shrugged, "No one ever takes me seriously though. You'd think they would."

They talked long after that, until Cordelia's eyes began to slide closed, and her head began to nod. Angel watched her drift into sleep, words slipping at slow intervals form her lips as she lost the battle with her need for sleep. He watched her sleeping until the telling prickle of the impending sunrise forced him from his seat and out her door. He cast one last long glance at her before he left her living room, taking in the tousled cascade of her long dark hair, the dark stain of her lips, and the softness of her face in sleep. And he realized, in that instant, that he had fallen for Cordelia Chase – the one human women who had ever accepted his existence and reality as simple.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Sixteen_

Weeks passed. The mild chilliness of a Californian winter slipped away into the climbing humidity and temperatures of spring. A single souled vampire flirted with the sun, stealing kisses from the one he loved, while a second spent more nights lost in thoughts of a dark-haired beauty than he would ever have admitted. Two Californian girls danced around their vampire lovers, sharing smiles and kisses and daydreaming about what other pleasures might just await them, should they be so bold. But life is never as simple or easy as innocent hearts hope.

"I still don't get it," Xander sat across from Willow at one of the park-like lunch tables set on the high school's campus. His gaze was focused on Buffy, who was walking towards them with a smile on her lips and a slight swing to her hips that suggested she was aware of eyes watching her from some dark corner somewhere. "Isn't it creepy to have a vampire for a boyfriend? I mean, doesn't the whole stalker-vibe-and-fang combo get a little old?"

Willow shook her head with a wistful smile, "I think it's kinda sweet. I mean, Buffy is the slayer. It must be nice to have someone who you know can watch your back, you know, _watching_ it."

"Hey guys!" Buffy's voice was bright and sweet as she slipped into her seat beside Willow. "You guys totally should have seen the Nek'rolik demon me and Spike took down last night. It was absolutely gross – all wicked spines and poison drool…"

Willow stared at Buffy for a long moment, a perplexed look in her eyes, "Do you mean a Necro'licht demon?"

Buffy stared back, confusion written in her eyes, "Isn't that what I said?"

Willow's eyes widened. "Buffy, those are…"

"Oh look," a familiar voice cut across the table, "If it isn't the reject squad." Cordelia smiled down at the trio with a condescending smile.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure?" Xander replied, his eyes betraying his tone as they eyed Cordelia appreciatively.

Her smile tightened, threatening to become a grimace. "You're sitting at my table," she informed, batting her eyelashes for effect.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Yeah, right. Cause it has your name on it?"

Willow tugged gently on Buffy's sleeve, "Let it go," she said softly, "We need to be in the library anyway."

"The library?" Xander parroted, "But I was finally enjoying some sunshine…"

"It's important," Willow ground out, her eyes flashing at Xander in what she seemed to hope was a telepathic message.

"Of course, run off to the library," Cordelia's smile brightened as she waved her closest friends over towards her. "I've heard that's where all the cool kids go."

"Where do all the cool kids go?" Harmony asked, her eyes wide in concern as she caught Cordelia's last words.

"The library," Xander smirked, enjoying the blonde's confusion.

"The library?" she gasped, "Cordelia," she turned to face her de facto leader, "Shouldn't we be headed there too?"

Cordelia stared at her "friend" icily. "I was being sarcastic, Harmony."

Buffy and Willow led the way to the library with small smiles, as Xander followed behind, narrating an unnecessary play-by-play with added hilarity.

* * *

"A Necro'licht demon?" Giles was removing his glasses and pulling out his handkerchief, even as he asked the question. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Buffy smiled winningly, "Well, that's what Spike called it, and he's kinda more the demon expert than I am…"

"A problem we should really put to rights, if truth be told," Giles added seriously.

"Right," Buffy looked less than impressed by this development. "But what's the big, anyway?"

"Necro'licht demons are very powerful at dark magiks," Jenny Calendar replied from where she leaned against the library table. "They're capable of controlling the dead."

"And now he's dead." Buffy moved to sit down, "What's the problem?"

"Well, quite simply, he might not be dead." Giles looked at her with a serious gaze. "Try to remember. Did the body evaporate? Disappear? Melt into a puddle?"

"Spike said it was dead," Buffy's eyes narrowed. "We're not back to this not-trusting-my-boyfriend thing are we? Cause I'm so totally over that lecture."

Giles sighed, "It's not that we don't trust him exactly…"

"So much as he might not have been the one who actually spoke," Jenny finished Giles statement, rising from where she had been leaning to stand beside Giles. "A Necro'licht can control the dead. Since vampires are dead," she trailed off, hoping Buffy could put two and two together.

"They can control vampires," Willow finished. She turned to Buffy, "At least in theory. Necro'licht are so rare that the accounts in the books are vague at best."

Buffy sighed, hanging her head. "Great. So now you're saying that my boyfriend, who technically is a demon, is being controlled by another demon. That's just great. Don't you guys ever have any good news?"

* * *

"And so we meet again," Angel's voice sent shivers down Cordelia's spine, as if they didn't meet every Thursday night at the Bronze for a few drinks and a dance before he walked her home. It had become as much a part of her life as getting her weekly manicure, only so very much more enjoyable.

She smiled and blinked coyly, "Oh, is that you, Angel? Imagine my surprise." Her lips curled possessively around the edge of her martini glass, masking her smile of pleasure. It was a silly little game they played. But he made her feel sophisticated, mysterious, important – the way he always seemed to be to her.

"You look stunning, as usual." She loved it when his eyes went a little dark as they swept over her figure, a husky hint of his Irish lilt coming out in his voice. "Do you need another drink?" His hand extended out to catch the empty glass from her fingers, his touch lingering longer than it needed to.

"I'd love one," she replied coolly, though inwardly she was a mess of emotions that threatened to spin right out of control. The slightest touch and those dark eyes were enough to make her want so much more than the chaste kiss he would press to her forehead when the evening was done. She wanted so much more. Wanted those strangely desperate kisses he sometimes broke down into; the near roughness of his wild embrace. Those nights he would turn away from her and beg her to leave him alone in the darkness. To go inside and turn on the lights and go to sleep. She dreamed of the night she would be brave enough to refuse that request. The night she would pull him inside her doors, and maybe… just maybe into her bed.

His gaze landed on her from across the room, a faint flicker of gold making her wonder if he could read her thoughts. If he wanted what she wanted. If he wanted her in this way that twisted her insides and wrenched at her heart, making her feel delirious in his arms.

* * *

"Come inside," she whispered, the third martini pushing her limited alcohol tolerance just far enough to make her brave. "Come inside and don't go." She felt him shiver against her, a tremor of something running through his strong arms and into her as he held her close to him, his dry lips pressed to her temple. "Cordy," he whispered, his eyes dark with emotion as he pulled away to stare at her.

"Please, Angel," she murmured softly. "We both want this. Why should we keep fighting it?" Suddenly, she was pulling him closer, leading his hands over her hips, over _other _curves, as the slightest of moans curled from the back of her throat. "Please," she whispered into his shoulder, tracing up the strong angles of his neck with her lips. "Angel," she whispered in something closer to a moan, "I love you."

And then he was on her skin, his mouth devouring her lips, her neck, her collarbone, a downpour of kisses that burned her skin and set fires all throughout her nervous system. "Inside," she gasped, "I don't want Mrs. Petit gossiping at her tea club!"

"Let them," his voice was dark and low in her ears, "I love you too, Cordelia."

A delicious thrill ran through her as he scooped her into his arms and then somehow, in some way she had completely missed while being drowned in his kisses, they were in her room. And she gasped as he trailed kisses down her shoulders, down her breasts. Her shirt was gone and all she could see was Mr. Teddy sitting on the shelf above her dresser and there was a man doing terribly wicked and wonderful things to her and Mr. Teddy was watching… and then it didn't matter, because what Angel was doing was simply too wonderful to let him have all the fun.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Seventeen_

Cordelia woke to an empty bed. She stared for a long moment at the creased pillow beside her sleepy eyes, the naked state of her body and the events of the previous night slowly dawning upon her. "Angel?" she called out, pulling herself up out of bed. She gasped slightly at the soreness of her limbs. At some point in the night, Angel had gone from gentle and giving to absolutely rough, and she could feel faint bruises beginning to form across her wrists, hips and thighs. She stared blearily at her reflection and gasped. She looked ravaged. As if she had made love to an animal rather than a man.

"Angel?" she called a little more loudly, grabbing the sheet from her bed to wrap around herself. She wrapped her hand around her doorknob and slowly opened the door into the hallway. She peered out, a worried frown on her lips. The sun had obviously come up, as splashes of sunlight littered the hallway carpet. Maybe Angel had gotten up at some point and gotten trapped somewhere downstairs with the rising of the sun?

"Angel?" her voice echoed uncertainly in the seemingly empty house. She changed tactics, "Consuela?" She paused, waiting for a reply. "Consuela? Are you there? Is the coffee ready?" The silence was becoming deafening. The maid, Consuela, and the chef, Timothy, also came to work before the sun was even up. For them to not answer her call was unheard of.

And where was Angel? He was going to have more than a little explaining to do. She didn't mind it a little rough, but what was she supposed to do about what felt to be deep and vivid bruises? She sighed, hoping these weren't the type that turned blue and green, because those would totally throw off her wardrobe choices for the next week. But she could cope.

Cordelia tiptoed down the main stairs, her white Egyptian cotton bed sheet trailing behind her like a bridal train as she turned the curve in the staircase. The front hall came into view. Cordelia's world crumbled.

* * *

"What happened?" Buffy asked Willow in low tones as she settled into her seat for first period.

Willow turned to her, looking paler than usual, "Apparently there were multiple murders at Cordelia's sometime last night. _While she slept._" Willow's eyes were wide, "Can you imagine? Someone broke in and murdered the maid and the cook while Cordelia slept. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even her."

Buffy swallowed hard, her mind already racing. "Supernatural?"

Willow looked back at her. "It was a bloodbath. Whoever or whatever did it painted the walls in the victim's blood, and wrote out a message on the floor."

"In blood?" Buffy grimaced as Willow nodded silently. "What did the message say?"

Willow shrugged. "No one knows, the police are keeping that much under wraps. But," her voice lowered as she leaned in closer, "I'm planning on hacking in during lunch. Ms. Calendar's computer lab. You can meet me there."

The two girls stared at the computer screen with expressions of horror. "OK," Buffy said slowly, "I've seen gross stuff, horrible stuff, but this… this is… psychotic."

The recently uploaded case file held photographs that Buffy knew Willow was wishing she had never seen. Two crumpled, lifeless bodies lay discarded in a heap in the corner, crimson blood drying in streaks and splashes across the walls and floor, a bloody message scrawled across white marble in front of it all, "Still not known for my restraint, Cordy."

"Well," Buffy began, her eyes still glued to the gruesome scene, "We know that whoever did it is probably a whoever, 'cause no mindless demon can write in English, and they definitely knew Cordelia. That's a start."

"I think it's an end," Ms. Calendar's voice interrupted, sounding strangely haunted. "It's Angelus."

Buffy spun on her heel. "Who?"

"Angelus." Ms. Calendar stepped out of the doorway toward the two girls, pressing the escape key on the keyboard in front of Willow. "Angel." She turned her head, her dark hair falling across her face. "I should have known, should have kept a closer eye on him."

"Ms. Calendar?" Willow prompted, "What are you saying?"

"There's a loophole to the soul restoration curse that was placed on Angel," she began, "And Spike," her eyes flashed to Buffy's for a moment. "If either experience even a moment of pure happiness, they would become free of the curse." She paused, looking at Buffy's blank expression. "They would lose their souls and become the soulless, evil monsters they were before." She gestured to the computer which now sat calmly displaying the operating system's home screen, "And that was undoubtedly Angel's handiwork."

Buffy stood frozen, her mouth falling open slightly as the implications of Ms. Calendar's words filtered across her mind. That it could have been her dating Angel, that Angel had apparently been seeing Cordelia, that Cordelia had given him some mystic moment of pure happiness, that Spike was in the same case, that if she made Spike just a little too happy he could go back to…

"Oh god," she whispered, pitching forward towards the wastepaper basket by the desk. "It could have been me." A dry heave pushed through her chest as tears pricked at her eyes, "It could be me." Images of pale, glassy-eyed victims impaled on railroad spikes slipped through her mind's eye. Angel hadn't killed Cordelia. He'd gone after the other people in her house. She whimpered, thinking just how close it might have been, for her mother to be one of the empty crumpled bodies in a blood-splattered hall.

"Buffy!" Willow's voice cut through the terrifying fog she hung in, "Buffy, are you OK?"

She nodded slowly, steeling her mind and her heart in preparation for the answer to her next questions. "Ms. Calendar," she said softly, her eyes going hard, as she gazed up at the dark-haired teacher, "Does Spike know how to break the curse?"

* * *

She had never been to Spike's apartment. She knew where it was, of course. He'd given her the address weeks ago, in case she ever needed him and she couldn't feel his presence around her. She was running there now. She had slipped off campus without a second-thought, urgency in her eyes. Only yesterday, Willow had brought up the possibility that the Necro'licht demon could have control of Spike, and even though she hadn't noticed anything wrong with him on last night's patrol, if the thing was in control… Angel hadn't been at the house when Cordelia had called 911, screaming and crying into the phone according to the police files. Which meant he'd gone somewhere before dawn. Angel and Spike knew each other. Colourful history she hadn't wanted to listen to, that Giles had tried to warn her about. Past is past, she'd said… But the past wasn't past now. Angel had no soul. Angel knew how to lose it. Angel could tell Spike how to find a moment of pure happiness. And if the Neck-thingy demon was in control of Spike…

Buffy's vision blurred as she ran faster. Her brain was spinning with the possibilities of what might have been, of what could still be. None of it was pleasant, and all of it was squeezing her heart in horribly unpleasant ways. She stopped dead in front of a small house, its green shutters disarmingly cute against the white-washed house. A curtain twitched in an upstairs window, and the door marked "B" stood just slightly ajar. Buffy felt her mouth go dry. Apartment B, the upstairs of the place; the first apartment he'd had in the sunlight since he'd been turned.

"Spike!" she cried, throwing herself up the red cobbled pathway and through the door. Her panicked eyes flickered around the narrow stairway for a heartbeat before she bolted up. "Spike!" she called again, her voice edged with a desperation she hadn't realized she was feeling.

"Luv," his voice sounded more like a groan, "You shouldn't have come."

Buffy stared at him for a moment that stretched into an eternity as she took his battered appearance, the way he was tied so tightly to the chair he sat on that blood literally dripped from his wrists to a small puddle on the floor, visible even in the darkness of the unusually shrouded apartment. "Spike," she whispered, her heart breaking at his state.

"Glad you could make it, Slayer," a familiar voice droned just behind her ear. "And here I was afraid this party was going to get boring."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Eighteen_

"_Glad you could make it, Slayer," a familiar voice droned just behind her ear. "And here I was afraid this party was going to get boring."_

"Angel," Buffy's voice was hard as ice, startling herself.

"You know," the vampire stepped from the shadows behind Buffy, "I've discovered that _Angel_ is kindof a girly name…"

"Could've told you that a century 'go, mate," Spike snorted, a small wheeze of pain escaping him immediately after.

Angelus smiled darkly, ignoring Spike's comment, "So I'd really rather go by Angelus, if its all the same to you, Slayer." He smirked, "Or would you rather I call you Buffy? It's so hard to tell whether to go formal or not after a messy breakup, don't you think?"

"I think you should skip the small talk and tell me what the hell you're doing to Spike before I get impatient," Buffy snapped back, instinctively pulling her body into a fighting position. Her fists itched to damage this demon. Anything capable of the devastation she had seen on that computer screen…

"Oh you Sunnydale girls," Angelus chuckled drily, "You're all so impatient. Ready and willing." He shook his head, "Not like the old days." A evil grin spread across his face, as he licked his lips predatorily. "Though it is too bad that I missed out on having you first. I mean, I imagine the look on Cordelia's face when she walked into her front hallway must have been… delicious. But if it had been you? Unleashing a demon just by making love? And I'm betting you would have still been a virgin too, all sugary sweet and innocent."

Behind her, Buffy could hear Spike growl, low and warningly. At the edges of her hearing she could hear the ropes around his wrists straining, even as blood splashed to the ground. She glared hard at Angelus before tossing her hair, "I would never have slept with you. So don't kid yourself."

Angelus laughed at that, a harsh grating laugh that threatened to become something far more threatening. His eyes flared golden, "But doesn't it make you ask yourself exactly what game Spike is playing?"

Buffy stared at Angelus for a long moment, "What are you talking about?"

She watched him shake his head in amazement. "You know," he paused, jabbing a finger in her direction, "I knew you were a dumb blonde, but I really can't believe you can't put two and two together."

Buffy watched him suspiciously as he strode over to where Spike sat bound and glaring. "I mean," Angelus continued, "What exactly is he doing, being all good and playing nice, when he could be snapping your neck and feasting on the blood of innocents? Unless, of course, you're that bad a lay, Slayer."

Buffy blinked. Angelus thought she had…

And he stared at her in silence. He dropped his gaze to the silent and glowering one Spike wore. "Unless you haven't…" He looked between the captive vampire and the Slayer and laughed. "You mean to tell me you haven't slept with her yet, Spike?" His voice was mocking, "You must be losing your touch. Though I suppose that's what a century with Dru must do to the brain. You always were a bit of a sucker for a bitch."

"Hey," Buffy barked. "The _bitch _is standing right here. Don't you think you ought to pay a little attention?" She spun the stake that had suddenly appeared in her hand with expert ease. "Cause it's on."

The dark smile he gave her then sent a chill down her spine. "I certainly hope so," he began, licking his lips as he eyed her suggestively, "Cause I'm not finished with you, sweet Buffy. But in the meantime, I've got a new toy to play with." In the space of time it took for Buffy to blink, Angelus was crashing through one of the windows, out into the sunlight of the bright, wide world. Buffy felt her stomach churn, he'd taken the ring. A killer like Angelus was roaming freely in Sunnydale, and she suddenly wasn't certain she could face a foe quite like this.

Spike's howl of pain brought her back into the present. "Spike!" she cried, her eyes tearing away from the open window to Spike who sat bound in the path of the streaming sunlight. A Spike unprotected by any of the Gem of Amara's charms. In a flash, Buffy was across the floor, her body careening into Spike's as she pushed him and the chair into the shadows, her body a barrier between him and the light.

She rolled to a stop, her hands already making fast work of the ropes and knots which bound his wrists and legs. "Spike," she whispered, her voice aching, as her fingers slipped in the blood soaking the rope. "It's ok," she murmured, her eyes not quiet seeing, as her fingers floated over the cuts the rope had left, over the burnt red patches of skin marring his left arm and hand, and his left cheek. "We'll get back the ring, we'll beat Angelus, we'll make everything work out."

One eye already swelling shut under a heavy bruise, Spike's gaze seemed unfocused as he growled softly against the pain. "Buffy," he whispered, "Love, it's not gonna be that easy." His voice sounded hoarse, his lips constricted into a tight frown.

"Shhh," Buffy urged in reply, wrapping her arms around him, an expression of anguish marring her own features.

* * *

Night fell slowly, but when it had, the group found themselves in a tight knot in the library. Buffy sat listlessly, one hand gripped tightly around Spike's unburnt hand. Wary eyes lingered on the couple as Ms. Calendar stood tight-lipped by the library counter. "If I'd known that Angelus was pursuing another…"

"If you'd known?" Spike began in a hushed voice that barely checked the fury that seemed to emanate from him in a wave. "How about you start by hitching souls tight and proper? How about you scrawl some warning across our bloody foreheads. Don't shag the vampire, you'll screw his bloody soul out."

"It's not that simple." Ms. Calendar's voice cut through the library like a dart. "It's not just about sex, it's about a moment of pure happiness and joy."

"With Cordelia?" Xander muttered in disbelief, "No wonder I never liked the guy."

"Shut it, Whelp. The grown-ups are talking." Spike snapped, his good eye flashing a steely blue.

For a moment, Xander looked wounded and gazed from Spike to Buffy, searching for some sort of reprimand, which never came. "It's ok, sweetie." Willow murmured into his ear, "There's just a lot going on. He didn't mean it."

"So this moment of bleedin' joy, what'd that be like?" Spike prompted, glaring a hole into Ms. Calendar.

For a moment, she looked caught off guard, "I… I don't know. I imagine it would be different for everyone. Probably for Angel it was a matter of being forgiven and accepted by someone."

"Bloody poof," Spike muttered, pulling himself into a standing position with a fluid grace only slightly hampered by his wounds. "C'mon, pet," he tugged gently at Buffy's hand as she rose along side him, "Gotta go protect the innocents."

A jagged stutter from Giles interrupted. "What exactly do you propose? That's _Angelus_ out there, and you're hardly in any shape to fight. You might as well lead Buffy to her…" He trailed off at a look from the girl in question.

"Death?" Buffy prompted. "I seem to remember something similar to that happening not so long ago, and I came out alive after all." She smiled grimly, "Listen, Spike's right. The _thing_ I saw today is out for blood, and he's got the Gem of Amara. If we aren't there to stop him, or at least throw a wrench into his plans, I might as well quit the Slaying gig here and now and move to Miami, 'cause Sunnydale will be doomed."

Giles looked at her despairingly. "I seem to forget just how much you have faced, sometimes. How deep your responsibility goes." He smiled weakly, "I don't suppose research would be any good…"

Spike snorted, "That's where your wrong, Watcher. You and the gypsy are gonna find a way to make the bloody soul _stick_. 'm not content to just sit back and try not to get too happy. Don't wanna wake up the mornin' after Manchester U wins a match and find myself with a raging desire to paint the town red in your blood."

Giles and Ms. Calendar exchanged an awkward glance, as Xander and Willow stared in troubled awe. "Quite," Giles summed up, as Spike and Buffy strode out of the library, a crossbow and rather large axe in hand.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Nineteen_

The problem with the whole plan, Xander figured, was that it was fine for Buffy and Spike to go off and be all super dream team, but they neglected the rest of their resources. Namely him, of course, as he was pretty much useless in the quest for knowledge and variants on strange Babylonian or whatever spells which apparently had the power to pull souls out of the ether and stick them back into a demon-haunted body. Willow, on the other hand, was amazing. He could watch her type away at the computer for, well, minutes anyway, as she hacked into this resource and that, comparing one ancient script with another, analyzing scans of ancient scrolls and spell books. It was enough to make his head spin. And his eyelids droop.

"Giles," Ms. Calendar's voice cut in softly, "It's the fourth night we've been working at this, shouldn't we let Xander and Willow get some sleep in? I'm sure their families are worrying about them."

Xander lifted his heavy head to share a weary look with Willow, as she bit her lip, her mind suddenly on her mother, who's mind was most likely not on her. "We could use a night off," he announced, noticing the dark smudges under Willow's eyes. "We've been going at this full tilt, and we do have a little progress made." His voice was only partly pleading, as he looked between the two teachers who seemed to occupy a bigger role in life than his own parents.

Giles smiled, an honest fatherly smile that reached his eyes, as he gazed fondly at the two students who had so devoted themselves to saving the world, even without any powers. Their bravery really did go unsung. "Certainly, I'll take you home. No need to take any more risks than necessary." He turned to pack up his bag, his smile fading as he took in Ms. Calendar's determined gaze. "Jenny," he said softly, "Do you need a lift..."

"I think I've almost got it," a grin spread itself across her face, triumph so close she could taste it. "You guys go on ahead, I'm going to take just one more crack at it with the new program. I think I'm really close to cracking this, and I don't want to lose steam."

With wary eyes, Giles scanned the library, gauging its safety. "Are you certain you're alright alone?" he asked, concern in his voice as his eyes lingered on her just long enough to give the impression of deep fondness.

"I'll be fine," Jenny waved him away. "The school is safe enough. I'll drive home soon as the program is done."

Giles gave her a worried look. "If you're certain…" he trailed off, an expression of affection crossing his features as he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. "You are lovely when you're determined," he whispered into her ear.

It was enough to spark a smile on Jenny's features and she gazed up at Giles with an expression of equal affection. "And maybe if I do crack this, tomorrow night we can have that supper we've been talking about."

Xander could have reached out and touched the joy than settled between the two teachers, hope and the stirrings of love bringing light to the dusty library.

* * *

Giles smiled as he read the label on the bottle of champagne that he held, "One of the best, I believe?" he said softly, his eyes sliding to the two empty flutes that sat besides the ice bucket.

"I think so," Jenny replied, a smile lighting up her features as well, fondness in her eyes as she gazed back at Giles from across the tiny table. There was something about a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant that spoke volumes about the potential for a relationship. There was even more being spoken in Rupert's eyes. Jenny let her hand reach across to squeeze his free hand lightly, "And I have the sort of good news that will keep you from worrying in the back of your mind."

His questioning glance urged her onwards. "I've found a way to rebind Angel's soul. Better yet," she gave him a wink, "I can make it stick."

"So no need to worry tonight?" Giles answered.

"Only about who's place we're ending up at," Jenny replied.

* * *

Across town, in the darkened halls of Sunnydale High, a shadowy figure moved smoothly through the hallways. Past lockers and closed classroom doorways, the shadow moved with predatory grace, burning eyes focused on a single objective: the door to the computer lab.

Too much had been given away, and he knew the game now. The computer teacher was the unlucky descendent of the gypsies who had cursed him so long ago. Unlucky, of course, because she had the audacity to exist in the same town as he did. Him and the only other vampire to have ever been saddled with a soul, a love-struck fool who apparently couldn't remember how much better it was to bath in the blood of innocents than to play nice with a whining teenage Slayer. It really was a shame, Angel mused, that there was truth to the old adage that one couldn't choose family.

Objective in reach, Angel opened the computer room door slowly, his yellow eyes taking in the darkened room, the silent computers, and the pile of papers sitting in the printer. He reached for the stack of papers, cool now, but once warm with the heat of the printing process. Black ink stood out starkly against the white paper, words both ancient and new standing in blunt defiance. "So you think you can make the soul stick," he muttered darkly, shuffling through the stack, his eyes blazing with contained fury. Suddenly, he paused. A crooked smile slid across his features," Well, isn't that interesting…" he announced to the empty room, as he slid the papers back into the printer. A predator's eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Sunnydale High's hallways were graced with one less shadow.


	21. Chapter Twenty

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Chapter Twenty_

The library was shrouded in darkness, the stacks lost to the inky black of night, despite the orange glow of several dozen candles which fought valiantly to push back the shadows. Buffy stood nervously beside Spike, her worried features illuminated in the warm tones of flickering candlelight. "Are you certain you want to do this?" she asked, her voice low enough to evade the hearing of the other four occupants in the room.

Spike's eyes carried a steely glint as his gaze was directed away from the gypsy-teacher as she and Willow drew protection circles across the library floor. "Think it's a little late to turn back now, pet," he replied, his flashing gaze carried back to where Xander stood, distractedly tossing herbs as Giles be-spelled a heavy-looking set of iron chains. "'Sides, even if the wards fail, isn't much I can do wrapped in chains."

"I was worried more about you than about what could happen." Buffy's voice held a serious tone, even as her eyes failed to meet Spike's.

"Love," he sighed, "If something happens, you don't waste a second…"

"To what?" Buffy's voice broke quietly, "To stake you? Just for not having a soul?"

"I was gonna say to do whatever it takes to restrain me," Spike replied wryly, "Not particularly looking forward to a dusty end tonight."

Buffy finally looked over at him, her eyes carrying an unreadable expression. "How much difference do you think the soul really makes?" she whispered.

"Best not to find out," Spike replied shortly, his eyes lingering heavily on the metal chains that Giles appeared to be done with. "Better get this over with, pet," he murmured, his feet already moving in the direction of the spell circles.

"Spike," Buffy cut him off by grabbing hold of a coat sleeve. "Just in case," she said softly, pulling him close in a rapid jerk and slanting her lips across his in a kiss that bordered on violent.

* * *

Willow could feel the power flowing through her as the ancient words flowed across Ms. Calendar's lips. Hands joined, the five humans stood in a wide circle around Spike, who sat uncomfortably on a wooden chair, heavily spelled chains wrapped around his form. The magic crackled in her veins, as if finding something in her very blood that could feed it, and perhaps, Willow mused distantly, control it.

The room fell silent as the final word of the spell fell into the circle, the black candles flaring suddenly brighter than the equal number of white that counterbalanced them. In the same instant, Spike arched, his face contorting in sudden pain, as a scream, and his soul, were ripped from his body. It was enough to force Willow's eyes wide, her hands itching to let go of Xander and Ms. Calendar's hands to cover her ears. She could see Buffy's jaw clenching as the candles threw shadows across her face.

Then there was silence, as Spike's body slumped in the chains. The black candles blew out, leaving the room suddenly dimmer, the shadows stretching closer to their linked circle. No one could have expected the sudden crunching snap that penetrated the silence. Nor the sudden crumpling of Ms. Calendar's body, as her hands flopped limply out of Willow and Giles' own. A ragged gasp escaped Giles, as his eyes widened in disbelief. A throaty chuckle arched overhead as the black figure of Angelus stepped into the space left suddenly empty.

"What have you done?" Giles cried, as he fell to his knees, his fingers desperately searching for a pulse in Jenny's neck, even as her head tilted at an impossible angle.

A cruel laugh was his only reply as the master vampire stepped into the circle, his hands crumbling the chains as if they were paper. Buffy's eyes glazed over in a black fury, even as Willow stood frozen. Giles knelt still, his arms cradling Jenny's broken form, even as a deep sob escaped him. "What do you think you're doing?" Buffy's voice was almost a snarl, as her fists clenched. Her feet threw her into a fighting stance unconsciously, and Willow let her gaze fall helplessly to Xander's, as he too stood frozen, trapped in a horrific tableau.

"Wakey wakey, William," Angelus said suddenly, slapping Spike's face roughly. He looked up at Buffy, "Collecting my ridiculous progeny," he stated in a bored tone, "What does it look like, Slayer?"

"You're not taking him," she ground out, between clenched teeth.

"And you're going to stop me, are you?" His cold voice carried mild amusement.

A pained groan suddenly erupted from the slumped figure between them. "Wassat?" Spike slurred, his head lifting slowly, as his bleary eyes took in the scene.

"C'mon boy," Angelus ordered, "We're getting out of here."

Spike stared up at Angelus in confusion. "When did you get 'ere, mate?" he asked, still in a slurred mutter Willow could barely decode.

The older vampire shook his head, grabbing Spike by the collar of his coat and pulling him up. "You're walking on your own legs, William," he growled, "There's not a chance in hell I'm carrying your sorry excuse for…"

"Where do you think you're going?" Buffy's voice cut through the exchange like sharpened steel, a single wooden stake clenched in her angry fist, already raised in an invitation to combat.

Angelus smiled grimly, moving faster than Willow could blink. In a single smooth movement, his fist had found Buffy's head and had landed a blow that had her falling backwards. Backwards into the heavy wooden library table. Willow's eyes widened with horror as Buffy's head connected with a sickening crunch, her body falling still. Suddenly, it became clear that they were not the ones winning this fight.

"Buffy!" Xander's voice cried out, his feet moving him towards Buffy before his brain had time to catch up with him.

"Not this time," Angelus caught his arm in a grip so tight that Willow heard his shoulder pop out of place, even above his cry of pain.

Willow stared at Spike, their last hope as Giles' whole focus seemed to have faded entirely to Jenny's still form. Spike stared at the scene unfolding before him, and seemed to process none of it, his eyes dull and unfocused.

"Now," Angelus began, "Where was I?" He strode forward, pulling Buffy's body up by the roots of her hair. Not a single movement betrayed consciousness. He threw her slim figure over one shoulder before grabbing Spike by the collar once again and propelling him towards the library doors.

In a flash, Willow watched Giles leap into action, awareness of the situation suddenly permeating the grief. A crossbow bolt shot across the room, only to be knocked out of the air with a snarl… by Spike. His eyes flashed golden as Willow's breath caught painfully in her throat. All hope was lost. Sunnydale was now faced with fully half of the Scourge of Europe. And they carried an unconscious Slayer with them as they suddenly raced from the room, Angelus seemingly content that Spike had regained enough of his wits to follow.

A collective sob rose out of the defeated trio, as their eyes drifted hopelessly to the only one capable of wielding the power it took to put souls back into place. The one who's neck hung at a broken angle, all blood in her veins stilled. Willow fell to her knees by Xander's side, his good arm wrapping around her as sobs choked their way from her throat.


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_And…. Drumroll… It's the next chapter! Finally! After a cliffhanger!_

_Damn, that was mean of me to leave that hanging for so long…

* * *

_

_In a flash, Willow watched Giles leap into action, awareness of the situation suddenly permeating the grief. A crossbow bolt shot across the room, only to be knocked out of the air with a snarl… by Spike. His eyes flashed golden as Willow's breath caught painfully in her throat. All hope was lost. Sunnydale was now faced with fully half of the Scourge of Europe. And they carried an unconscious Slayer with them as they suddenly raced from the room, Angelus seemingly content that Spike had regained enough of his wits to follow._

_A collective sob rose out of the defeated trio, as their eyes drifted hopelessly to the only one capable of wielding the power it took to put souls back into place. The one who's neck hung at a broken angle, all blood in her veins stilled. Willow fell to her knees by Xander's side, his good arm wrapping around her as sobs choked their way from her throat. _

_Chapter Twenty-One_

Spike sat in a room only partially lit by flickering candlelight. Idly, one pale hand reached into a duster pocket to produce a package of cigarettes. In a single fluid motion, a cigarette had found its way to his lips and had flared to life, the snick and snap of his lighter heard, but barely seen. A thin stream of smoke slipped from his lips as he gently placed the package down on the end table adjacent to the battered armchair he currently sat in.

"Do you really need to do that?" A harsh voice growled from the shadows across the room.

"Sets the stage, don't it, mate?" Spike drawled, exhaling in the voice's direction.

"I'm actually starting to wonder what I was thinking getting you back." The voice held an equal amount of contempt and sheepish agitation.

"Can't help but wonder that myself," Spike replied, tapping his cigarette ashes onto the floor, looking anything but wondering. "Figured you forgot about that time in France. Or the time in Venice. Or bloody anytime you didn't like my style of doing things." He paused and smirked, "Though, suppose it could be my winnin' personality."

Angelus glared at the younger vampire as he stepped into the dim light of the candles. "In any case," he began authoritatively, "This time I'm expecting you to listen to…"

He was interrupted by an indignant snort. "You expect me to listen to _you_?" The incredulity in Spike's voice suggested any expectation Angelus had of him could be casually forgotten. Or better yet, go to hell.

"I rescued your sorry ass," Angelus glowered.

"Not that I asked you to," Spike reminded, once again tapping his cigarette ashes directly onto the floor.

Angelus smiled cruelly, "So you would rather have remained the Slayer's lap dog?" His eyes darted to the still figure slumped across the bed which sat squarely in the centre of the room, "While she is pretty, I can't say I see the need to lay myself at her feet, obedient to her every whim." A dark look crossed his features as he stepped nearer to the bed, a single hand reaching out to delicately smooth the unconscious girl's hair. "Though to see the opposite might be something of a treat." He glanced up at Spike, "What do you think? A pet Slayer subservient to my every whim? My very own unending fountain of…."

The growl escaped Spike's lips before he could stop it. "Who said she was yours?" he hissed in reply, his arms and legs suddenly taking on a deadly purpose as he straightened his body.

"Would you settle for ours?" Angelus smiled grimly.

A sudden moan cut through the air. Had Angelus held Spike's gaze for a moment longer before sliding to Buffy's slowly awakening form, he would have seen the twitch run through Spike's limbs, the flash of desperate desire that ran through his eyes, and the sudden grit of his jaw, as he contained the motion his body so urgently demanded. The motion that would have put him at Buffy's side.

"So nice that you could join us, Slayer," Angelus began, "I had hoped you didn't hit that pretty head of yours too badly. It would make what happens next so much _less_ fun."

"What do you want from me?" Buffy's voice sounded sharp and determined, though Spike could hear the tiredness in it, the clench of her jaw that told him she was swallowing down the pain of her throbbing skull. She was already in fight mode. Not that it would do her any good at this point.

"The real question, Buffy," Angelus let his voice drop as he leaned closer to Buffy's head, "Is what _don't_ I want from you?"

* * *

Buffy swam into consciousness through a sea of pain. Deep, throbbing pain that filled her skull and made the _idea_ of opening her eyes hurt. A low moan escaped her lips and she struggled to open them anyway. At the very least, the lighting was dim. And she was on a bed which wasn't entirely uncomfortable. Perhaps Xander and Willow….

"So nice that you could join us, Slayer," a dark voice drawled from the shadows near the foot of the bed she lay on. Memory hit Buffy like a freight train, as the light in Ms. Calendar's eyes flickered out again and again in her mind's eye. Giles lay crumpled on the library floor. Spike… the spell was only half complete.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded through gritted teeth. She didn't need to waste time _talking_ with a murderous jerk who also, kinda, sorta, was her ex. She needed to stake said murderous jerk and find out what had happened to Spike. She needed to make sure Giles and Willow and Xander were alright, and that Giles was going to pull through Ms. Calendar's death. She needed to stop replaying the murder in her mind.

"The real question, Buffy," his smarmy voice whispered roughly into her ear, "Is what don't I want from you?"

Ms. Calendar's death disappeared from her mind. Images of her own impending torture and inevitably horrific death began to replace it, as she finally realized with growing dread, that she was manacled. She twisted her arms and legs, fighting off the waves of nausea her aching head was causing. It was no use. She was chained down to the bed. Her body bound in iron chains and her wrists and ankles encased in steel. With a bloodthirsty vampire leaning at her throat.

For a moment, she let her eyes close, as she struggled to gain control of the frantic terror that raced through her. She could deal with this. Iron and steel were only metal, and she'd bent metal things before. She had Slayer strength. She was the one girl in all the world who didn't need to be utterly helpless and terrified in this situation.

"'Course," a second voice added, "it's not all jus' about him."

Buffy's heart broke.

She was going to have to stake Spike.

Blue eyes searched out her own. The look in them was like nothing she'd ever seen before. They danced with gleeful malice and unrepentant sin. His mouth was curved into a smirk that looked harsher and more horrible than she'd ever dreamed. He moved like a panther to the unoccupied bedside and shared a wink with Angelus over her watering eyes. His hands pressed into the mattress and she _felt_ the wildness, the darkness, and the cruelty that had settled in around him like a second skin. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to die.

But just for a moment. Because _her _Spike would remind her that even though every Slayer had a death wish, he expected better of her. _His _blue eyes would radiate love, and even though he was still dangerous, he was dangerous for her. Never to her. And even if he didn't exist in the Spike who leaned beside her, licking his thin lips tauntingly, he did exist somewhere. And he would never be alright with any part of this situation.

Except maybe the chains. There was no point pretending Spike didn't have _some _weird, vampire-y fetishes.

And that thought made her smile.

Which made Angelus frown. "What are you smiling at, Slayer?" he growled threateningly.

Buffy turned her gaze towards him and grinned even brighter. "I was just thinking about how bad you must be with women to need to chain one to the bed, and share her, just to get some."

Spike's snort surprised her. His laughter surprised her more. "That's it, Slayer," he encouraged, pushing himself off the edge of the bed as his eyes watched an expression of rage paint itself across Angelus' face, "You tell 'im."

"I thought you were on his side?" she asked, anger and shock winning over restraint as she leaned her neck up to stare at him suspiciously.

"Buffy, love," he drawled, "I may be bad, but I'm not bloody useless." He took a drag off the cigarette that had somehow appeared in his hand. "I'm a master vamp in my own right. Don't need to follow granddad around." Angelus growled warningly. Spike just smirked wider. "I've every intention of keeping you all to myself."

"William," Angelus snarled, his body pulling up from his crouch by Buffy's side. "Do you really think you can challenge me?"

Buffy felt as if she had suddenly become an observer to the world's most deadly tennis match. And then she caught Spike's glance at her. The tiny, imperceptible nod towards her wrist. "Challenge you?" Spike scoffed. "I could wipe the floor with you. Just how long were you saddled with a soul? Damn near a century? And you think _I've_ gone soft?"

Buffy moved her wrist achingly slowly, keeping the chains from rattling. And realized with a start that the steel manacle wrapped around it was unlocked. And the key remained. Her eyes widened, as she gazed at Spike in wonderment. She knew he didn't have a soul. Did he? Or did it… did he still love her? Why else would he set her free and distract Angelus long enough from her to slip from her chains? Questions moved through her head like serpents, dangerous, beautiful, and slippery, as she slipped silently out of the manacles and chains. The battle of wits and wills was wearing thin, and from her place on the bed, she watched as Angelus sprung towards Spike, his fangs extended and his hands balled into fists. Spike seemed to dance out of the way, a snicker on his breath.

"'Course, granddad," he added as he sprung about the room, slipping from shadow to shadow as he dodged blows, "The best part is that I don't have to be the one to actually deal a blow."

Buffy still had a stake tucked in the back of the waistband of her jeans. Spike _knew_ about that stake. And yet she still had it. She leapt lightly to her feet, suddenly cluing into Spike's plan, as she found herself merely a few feet behind Angelus. His broad back eclipsed most of the room, but she heard Spike's voice loud and clear as he yelled, "Now, Slayer! For the love of puppies and Christmas, bloody _stake_ the wanker!"

For once, Buffy did as she was told.


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_Buffy still had a stake tucked in the back of the waistband of her jeans. Spike knew about that stake. And yet she still had it. She leapt lightly to her feet, suddenly clueing into Spike's plan, as she found herself merely a few feet behind Angelus. His broad back eclipsed most of the room, but she heard Spike's voice loud and clear as he yelled, "Now, Slayer! For the love of puppies and Christmas, bloody stake the wanker!"_

_For once, Buffy did as she was told._

_Chapter Twenty-Two_

Buffy could have sworn that the next minute stretched into an eternity before normal time resumed. The black ash-like dust that had just moments before been one quarter of the Scourge of Europe drifted in slow-motion to the ground. She stared at Spike. He stared at her. There was no pretending he had a soul. The impression she'd had of cruelty and danger and fierce wildness was all there. A tangible thing as real as his black duster, which she supposed had been left back in the library.

"Buffy," his voice sounded choked, and for a moment, he looked so tired. He'd told her once before, how the death of one's "family" could be brutally hard for a vampire. How his sire's death had left him physically aching for months after. Angelus was part of his bloodline. Angelus had just evaporated into a dust cloud.

Her stake was still poised in the air where Angelus' heart had been. Her stance still spoke of violence and she was, still, the Slayer. And Spike had no soul.

The stake fell to the ground.

Suddenly, she was in Spike's arms. Her body felt like jello, unresisting to him and his terribly blue eyes. She felt a hundred miles away as her legs folded on themselves, aching from however long she had lain unconscious and bound on the bed. She knew she should fight him off. She should tear herself away from him and whatever it was he wanted from her. She should keep him away from her neck. He was a Slayer of Slayers.

He was whispering in her ear. His arms held her close and rocked her softly against him. His cool, lean body was wrapped around her own, and his whispers sounded an awful lot like a mantra of her name. Dimly, she felt him pull slightly away from her, his eyes peering deeply into her own. "Buffy, love," his voice sounded hoarse, "Are you alright?" His fingers traced lightly over her temples, ran through her hair, caught in tangles that pulled slightly at what must be a bloody gash at the back of her skull. "Buffy," he murmured again, more urgently, "Bloody hell, love, _look _at me."

She looked. She saw blue eyes that radiated love. "Spike?" a broken whisper slipped from her lips, "But… what about… soul?"

A ghost of a smile cross his lips. "It doesn't take having a soul for me to love you, Buffy Summers," he murmured, his accent softening. "All it takes is looking at you, pet. You're the bloody sun and the moon to me."

"Spike," she whispered, seeing him clearly. He knelt before her, his hands wrapped around her own in the space between them. He was dangerous. He was a creature of darkness. He was wild and bloodthirsty. He was also earnest. And in love with her.

"Buffy," a hand lifted to her cheek to wipe away tears she hadn't felt, "I love you. More than anything in this world. With or without a soul, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. Whatever it takes." He stared down into her, "Even if it means my dusty end."

She felt herself shaking her head, disbelief warring with relief. Whatever was left of her broken heart was shattering into even tinier bits. Particles of heart that were reassembling into something so terribly painful it felt as if her chest would burst. "Spike," she whispered a third time, "I was so scared… I thought…" and then the tears began in earnest. Sobs which shook her down to the core and left her clinging to Spike's dampening t-shirt. His hands running up and down her shoulder blades, and his whispered words of comfort were her only calm in the storm of her emotions.

"I'm right here," he whispered, "Never gonna let you go."

Buffy hiccupped as her sobs stilled. "Oh god," she muttered, "I'm such a mess."

"Shhh," Spike replied, "You're beautiful, love. Always will be."

She glared at him for a moment. "I look like a disaster victim," she countered. "I'm covered in tears and blood…"

"And you sound like a tasty treat to a vampire," Spike retorted wryly.

"Can you say ewww?" she grimaced.

"Oh, love," he leaned into her, "You have no idea how good I could make it. How I would eat you up. You'd beg for more…"

Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat as a shiver ran up her spine. A glance back at Spike revealed a look of hunger and longing upon his face. "Beg?" she scoffed, "I don't think so."

"You really believe that, pet?" his breath was suddenly on her ear, and Buffy felt her stomach doing the strangest things. She had always been attracted to Spike. Hell, they had done more than kiss before. But this felt… different. His lips placed a string of butterfly-like kisses down the side of her neck, and it seemed to cause a pool of molten heat to form deep within her. "I think," his voice lisped softly, razor sharp teeth barely grazing the hollow of her neck, "That I could convince you otherwise."

"Spike," her voice came out as something between a moan and a sigh, "What are you doing?"

"Convincing you," he murmured, as his hands tangled their way back into her hair and pulled her close enough to slide his lips against her own. His tongue lapped lightly at her lips until she helplessly let him in. She wasn't jello, she was liquid. Liquid fire that burned her skin from the inside out. Spike's touch, Spike's lips… were the only things that seemed to ease the flame. And he was everywhere. One moment his fingers were in her hair, the next they were ghosting across her arms, exposing the skin of her hips, pushing at the soft material of her shirt. His lips were on her own, down her neck, on the back of her fingers. His teeth scraped across her neck, tugged at her ear lobes, left nibbles across her shoulders.

"What are we doing?" she gasped suddenly, the need for air feeling secondary to the need for _Spike_. She pulled far enough away to see the flashes of gold in his eyes, the predatory strength in the muscles under his pale skin. She didn't know what they were doing, but she wanted nothing more than to continue. Even if they were on dusty wooden floorboards.

His eyes seemed to focus on her for a long moment, then on something just beyond her. "Half a tic, love," he smirked, snatching her suddenly around the waist and tossing her upwards and back. She landed with her back on the bed with a soft exhalation. There wasn't time to think before he was on her again, his body taunt against hers. Coolness meeting fire-heat. She arched up against him as one of his legs found its way between her own. She found herself craving the friction that was growing between them.

"Wait!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "What are we doing?"

* * *

Spike came back to himself at her breathless cry to wait. "What are we doing?" she echoed, her eyes wide and liquid. She was a fire beneath his body, and whether she knew it or not, she was crying out to him. Her body arched involuntarily against his own, her mouth fought a desperate battle with his own, and the tiny gasps and moans that escaped her lips screamed at him louder than any cry of 'More!'

"No soul to lose, pet," he murmured hoarsely, as he pushed himself up off her, instincts warring against his actions. Holding himself up on one arm, he ran his free hand through her hair gently, giving her a moment to collect a handful of scattered thoughts.

He heard her breath catch in her throat, "You want, I mean, of course you want," her emerald eyes gazed up at him, "Do you want… me?"

Spike felt the growl rumble through his chest, "You're _all_ I want, Buffy."

Her whimpered response combined with the delicious way she writhed under him, her hands pulling him back down to her lips, were all the go ahead he needed. "I promise you'll see stars," he whispered into her ear as he ran his hands across her bare skin.

"I'd rather just see you," she whispered back.


	24. Chapter TwentyThree

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

"_I promise you'll see stars," he whispered into her ear as he ran his hands across her bare skin._

"_I'd rather just see you," she whispered back._

_Chapter Twenty-Three_

Buffy lay still and watched the soft, warm breeze of her breath gently stir a few bleach blonde curls that had rebelliously sprung from her lover's gelled hair. She felt warm and soft and glow-y. She felt worn out in all the _right_ places. She felt like she could stay in Spike's arms forever, and never want for anything. His blue eyes stared into her own, regarding her with an awed look, as if she were a goddess and he her greatest follower. She had no doubts, not in this moment. She knew all the way down to her bones that he would never willingly leave her side. Soul or no soul, no matter what disaster struck, she was the center of his universe.

She wasn't sure how to contain that knowledge. She had no idea what she had ever done to earn that sort of love . But she would rather have Spike than anyone else, and she couldn't imagine ever letting go of his love.

"Spike," she murmured suddenly, suddenly bolting upright and staring at the dusty floorboards. "Wasn't Angelus wearing the ring?"

"What ring, pet?" Spike asked lazily, his voice languid and perhaps just a little haughty.

"The gem," she turned her head to stare at him sideways, "He took it from you. He _must _have been wearing it."

She watched Spike stretch as fluidly as a cat, "_Must_ he?" he mocked her, his tongue pressed behind his teeth.

"Spike," Buffy ground menacingly, her confusion wearing into irritation. "What did you do?"

He smirked at her. "It's in my pocket, love. You think after all those years I really hadn't figured a way to nick things from the great poof?"

Buffy stared at him in disbelief. "He would have noticed a ring missing from his hand." She stared at him even harder, "Wouldn't he?"

"Not if it say, got switched with an exact duplicate," Spike looked vaguely like the Cheshire Cat, "'m capable of _some_ planning and foresight, love."

"But when?" Buffy pressed.

"What's the name of that film your mum likes so much? _While You Were Sleeping? _Let's just leave it at that, pet."

He looked far too much like the cat who got the canary for Buffy's liking. On the other hand, he was a completely delectable creature, who was still lounging nakedly before her, his eyes trailing appreciatively over certain aspects of her person. "Fine," she said finally, "Keep your secrets." She flopped onto her side and rolled so that she faced away from him. "I'll just have to imagine how you could possibly have gotten Angelus to _hold hands _with you long enough for you to pull a switch like that." She smiled her own devious smirk as she listened to him sputter in indignation behind her.

Spike grinned as he grabbed Buffy (_his _Buffy!) by her waist and spun her on the dusty bed, pinning her sleek, tan body beneath his once more. A low growl rumbled through his chest as he took in her delighted smile and tiny indignant shrieks. Anyone who thought he would ever give this up was out of their mind. It certainly didn't take having a soul to appreciate the deadly beauty in his arms, and he was fairly certain he would rather dust than ever run the risk of losing her and her trust and her smile and the light in her eyes. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "Mine," he rumbled quietly, breathing in the heady scent of her sweat and her sex and the love they had made. It was enough to make him dizzy.

"Oh good lord," a familiar and decidedly disturbed voice cut through the moment.

"OhmygodSpikeblanketnow," the words tumbled from Buffy's mouth as her body instinctively curled up and out from under her vampire.

"Tsk tsk, love," Spike murmured leisurely, clicking his tongue behind his teeth. "Nothing you've got to be shamed of."

"That is a whole lot of _I-did-not-need-to-see_." Xander's voice floated over. "I mean, dear god, my eyes."

"Your eyes?" Giles voice bordered somewhere between insanity and defeat, as his voice grew more distant down the hallway outside.

Buffy clenched her eyes shut. Perhaps if she kept her eyes closed long enough this scene would just stop happening. Or maybe the bed could swallow her up. She felt Spike rise from the bed, and heard Willow's squeak as her footsteps followed Giles'. "And here I thought she liked something she saw," Spike exclaimed chattily, "Or maybe Red plays for the other team and don't know it yet." His voice had a note of curiosity and Buffy groaned in response.

Buffy opened her eyes with a sigh. "You're a pig, Spike," she said calmly. "Now hand me my shirt." He smirked at her for a long moment, his eyes obviously feasting on her naked body. Buffy shook her open hand in his face, "Now, Spike! I think we've already done enough damage to Giles' psyche for one day."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, "Might have a point there, pet."

Buffy rolled her eyes as the thought sprung a little madly through her head: it really _was_ too much to expect a soulless vampire to have a little compassion.

* * *

"Umm, so," Willow started awkwardly, as they sat quietly around the library table. A few feet away from them a white chalk outline still gleamed mockingly from the library's floor.

Buffy swallowed loudly, staring at the empty space inside the lines. "So we should probably clean that up if ever expect Giles to come back in here, huh?" Xander nodded slowly, seemingly lost for words for once.

The whole trio sat solemnly, as Willow chewed on her lower lip. "Umm, actually, I was," she broke off, her gaze drifting to the chalk. "Actually I was going to say you and Spike, huh? But that seems kinda… trite now that you mention the whole Ms. Calen… the whole thing."

"What's 'trite' mean?" Xander asked distantly, his gaze on the far wall. "Wait, no, don't answer that. Let me wander in ignorance away from words Giles would use."

Willow huffed quietly in reply. The seconds stretched into minutes. "I think," Xander began, "I think there's a mop in the library office closet."

Buffy looked sadly at the outline on the floor. "I'm not sure its going to matter, Xander." She said softly. "I still don't think Giles is ever going to come back in here. Or maybe look at me either."

Willow patted her on the shoulder, "I don't think Giles would want you to think he blames you. Or that he's really upset about the whole you and Spike thing. I mean, you are allowed to have your life go on. You weren't that close to… I mean, things happen and there's emotions and stuff when you dust your evil ex and it turns out that even without a soul your boyfriend is still crazy about you."

"Yeah," Xander agreed halfhearted, "And stuff."

Buffy blushed awkwardly, her eyes feeling strangely wet as she turned her head away from her friends. "C'mon guys, even if Giles never steps foot in here again, I think the idea of dirty floors is probably psychically torturing him."

* * *

It was weeks later when Willow realized that she could probably do the spell. Weeks spent in intense concentration on magic, since her best female friend was spending a fairly enormous amount of time with Spike.

"And you know the worst part?" Xander's voice cut through her concentration. "Its when she comes back to the land of the living with that big knowing smile. I mean, I don't even… OK, maybe I do want to know what the hell they're doing, but seriously!"

"Xander," Willow smiled, "Spike's been around, what, 125 years? He has… practice with that kind of thing."

Xander stared at her for a long minute. "But how the hell are normal guys like me supposed to compete with that?"

Willow shook her head. "You really still want to be with Buffy?"

Xander ducked his head slightly. "No, I mean, I'm pretty over all that. But, I mean, this whole vampires-can-love-without-souls thing. It kinda makes me wonder why all the girls don't run out and get themselves an undead boyfriend."

"Maybe because most girls don't think they exist?" Willow scooted her computer chair over to the bed where Xander sat slumped. "And maybe because most vampires would rather tear girls' throats out?" She patted Xander on the shoulder, "I'm pretty sure Spike is the exception to the rule, Xander. Girls aren't going to suddenly become vampire-crazy and all want to run out and get dangerous, undead boyfriends who slink around in shadows and brood. Seriously, I think you can give us a little more credit than that. Look at me! I'm not looking for some creepy supernatural boyfriend. Me, I'd be happy with a totally normal, 100% human one."

Xander gave her a smile. "I know, Wills, it's just a bit weird. I mean, with Buffy spending all her time with Spike, and Giles still off visiting England doing the whole mourning thing… I miss the group." He pulled Willow off her computer chair and onto the edge of the bed with him. He kept one arm slung around her shoulders and gestured wildly into the open air. "You know, back when Buffy would burst in and save me from getting eaten by giant bug ladies. Or when we'd bust up some vampire gang. We'd be all like, Scooby gang-ish."

Willow laughed softly. "We still are, Xander, just give it a little time. Besides, what was ever wrong with just the two of us, huh? We've done just fine on our own for years."

Xander laughed in reply, "Yup, besties from the beginning." He turned his head to share his smile and Willow found herself nose to nose with her best friend. The one she'd had at least a few lusty feelings for in the past.

"Yeah," she said softly, "Besties." Her voice wobbled a little on the word, and she saw Xander blink, and something, some quiet awareness, rise in his eyes.

The kiss was gentle. Little more than a brush of lips, but Willow felt the butterflies in her stomach explode into flight.

And then settle in for a long nap.

Xander pulled away, a sad and wary smile on his face. "I'm not…" he began in a hushed voice.

Willow smiled brightly, her voice preparing itself to be artificially light. "What is it, besty? A little peck between friends is all the rage in Europe, you know."

The look of relief that spread across Xander's face made her heart alternate between swelling and breaking. So there had been no spark between them, big deal. At least now she could put this all behind her. They could go on being friends. She could go on being alone. Doing nothing but working on magic. Like the spell. "Oh my god, the spell!" Willow leapt to her feet, "Xander, I can put Spike's soul back in!"


	25. Chapter TwentyFour

_**With My Soul Clenched**_

_The look of relief that spread across Xander's face made her heart alternate between swelling and breaking. So there had been no spark between them, big deal. At least now she could put this all behind her. They could go on being friends. She could go on being alone. Doing nothing but working on magic. Like the spell. "Oh my god, the spell!" Willow leapt to her feet, "Xander, I can put Spike's soul back in!"_

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

Buffy's face closed itself up into an unreadable expression. "No," she said quietly, spinning on her heel and continuing to walk purposefully through the graveyard.

"But it wouldn't hurt him. I mean, the part that hurts…"

"No!" Buffy exclaimed more forcefully as she whirled around to face Willow again. "You're not getting it. That was the _easy_ part. Putting the soul back in, that's the part that hurts. Every evil thing he ever did, he gets to relive. Every person he killed, everyone he ever hurt, every single tear-stained face comes to visit." Buffy let her gaze fall. "I don't want to put him through that."

Willow sighed. "Don't you think its safer though?"

Buffy's stare returned to Willow. "Spike would _never_ do anything like that. Not now. He knows it would… He knows what I would have to do."

Willow nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she gathered up her inner strength. "Ok, right, so assuming he never stops loving you, because, you know, its not like couples don't fall out of love sometimes, what happens when you die, Buffy?" Willow put as much of herself behind her own stare as she faced down her eminently tougher and more powerful friend. "What happens when the leash is off, Buffy? What happens when he has no reason to be good anymore? Do you really think that for the whole rest of eternity he would never bite anyone, never kill anyone, ever, just to be faithful to your _memory_?"

When Buffy's head fell, Willow wasn't sure if she should consider herself triumphant or just plain mean. "You're right," Buffy's voice was tiny, "You're right. Of course, you're right. Why would he? Why, why would anyone? It'd be silly. I guess I just never… never thought about it."

"Kinda always figured we'd go out together in a blaze of bloody glory, m'self," Spike's voice cut through the still night. "Not that anyone was looking for my opinion."

"Spike," Buffy exclaimed in dismay. "It's not… I wouldn't decide this. Not without telling you."

Spike strolled over, a cigarette pressed tightly between his lips, the only outward sign of his emotions. "Think you mean 'talking with me,' pet. Or do you?" He sneered slightly at the two girls. "Maybe I'm the one who's mistaken. Is it my soul? I mean, really mine? Am I mine? Or do I belong to the Slayer? Just a puppy with a leash?" His eyes were dark as flashed dangerously at Willow, "Isn't that how you put it, Red? _What happens when the leash is off?_"

"Spike," Buffy groaned, her hands running through her hair, "It isn't like that."

"Isn't it?" Spike's smile was cold, all teeth and sharpness. "Maybe your mate is right, maybe there's still monster lurking under the man. What then, love? What would you do if I killed someone? If I picked some tasty little tart from the club and…"

"Spike!" Buffy cried, "Stop it! What the hell? Why are you doing this?" Her eyes were wide as her voice rose in volume. She stepped forward, nose to nose now, all thoughts of their one-person audience gone. "Why are you making a big deal out of this?"

"It _is_ a big deal, Buffy," he replied in a hiss. "What would happen if some night I slipped and stuck my teeth in some bird's throat? What if I drank down all that lovely, rich, red, pumping blood? Would you do it, pet? Would you stick a stake in my chest?" His eyes glittered in the moonlight. "What if I'd already done it?"

Willow stood stock still, afraid to move for fear of the two figures before her. She'd never seen either look so dangerous as they did now. Spike a dark shadow of menace, and Buffy a trigger ready to spring, practically shaking with anger. Willow swallowed hard, feeling the blood leave her face. The sound of a slap echoed across the graveyard. For a long moment the two figures stood in tableau, Buffy's hand still raised, even as it trembled in the air.

"That's it, love," Spike growled, "Why don't you tell us how you really feel?"

Willow was torn, but in the end it seemed like it should be a private moment. At least that was what she told herself as she turned and ran. There were some things friends shouldn't see. And deep down, right where it probably mattered most, neither Buffy nor Spike was exactly normal. Or human, really. The way they chose to deal with things, that was ultimately up to them, wasn't it? In the end, Willow felt a little like a coward, but she also felt safe.

"How I really feel?" Buffy spat. "How I really feel is that right now you're being…"

"What, Buffy?" His hands wrapped around her wrists, shaking her slightly as he glared at her, blue eyes boring holes into her green ones. "What am I?"

For a moment, she thought better of it. For a moment she realized she could end this stupidity and could bring them back to their happy little romance and they could laugh this off. And then Spike tightened his grip and pulled her back into the violence in his eyes. "A monster," she hissed, too caught up now in the fight to listen to the little part of her that burned with disappointment, even as his grip loosened.

"And that's what you wanted me to say, isn't it?" Buffy cried, pulling herself from his grasp and using her freed hands to push his chest. "Isn't it?"

"Thought it was what I am, pet," he replied venomously, letting her propel him back only a step or two before grabbing her right arm and wrenching it back at a painful angle. He stepped in, tugging her arm a little harder so that she was forced to stand against him, "A monster. Hardly worth your respect, is it?"

Buffy used his position against him and flipped him to the ground. In a moment she was astride him, her thighs pinning him down. One clenched fist hung in the air, poised above his chest. Spike smiled bitterly, as his eyes motioned towards the fist. "Think you forgot something there, Slayer."

Buffy ground her teeth, slamming her clenched fist against his chest. "How could you even think…" she exclaimed, her voice a frustrated howl. "How could you… Why the hell would I… How could…" she paused, sniffling as tears brimmed up in her eyes. "Oh damnit," she muttered, "When the hell did I start crying?"

"You couldn't do it, could you, love?" Spike's voice was completely calm, concern in his tone as he lay prone on the cemetery grass. "Even if I murdered someone, you couldn't do it."

"Spike!" Buffy exclaimed, sniffling against the tears, "Why… How the hell could I?" She sat limply on his body, hunched in self pity. "I love you, you moron," she said pitifully. "It doesn't matter what I'm _supposed _to do. It's… it'd still be you." She paused, "And I mean, you'd have a good reason…" she trailed off, finally looking him in the eye as he leaned up on his elbows to look at her critically, "Wouldn't you?"

Spike sat up, wrapping an arm around Buffy as he nuzzled into her neck, inhaling the very smell of her. "I think you need to tell Red to go ahead with her magicking."

Buffy stiffened. "Wait," she pulled away from him far enough to look at him askance. "You _agree_ with her?" She watched him fidget ever so slightly. "What the hell was with… with all the… the offense-taking, and the talking, and the rarr rarr I'm a big bad…." Buffy went white. "You… you fucking _manipulated _me."

Spike laughed, his eyes dancing in mockery of her rage as he tackled her backward onto the grass. "Had to test the theory, love. How else was I gonna get you at your wit's end?"

"That's not," she began, Spike's kiss interrupting her, "You could have, mffph, you could have asked!"

"You wouldn't be honest," Spike replied, nibbling her ear delicately, "You'd put on a tough face and say you'd do what needed to be done, and we'd go on existing entirely uncertain what would actually happen." He paused long enough to look at her straight. "You know I'm right, love."

Buffy squirmed beneath his body, every cell and fragment of her being longingly reaching out towards him. "Damnit," she whispered softly, "You mean I love you _too much_?"

His eyes were the deepest blue as he gazed down at her, "Don't worry, kitten," he murmured, his voice sounding hoarse, "the feeling is mutual."

* * *

Willow was fiddling with some sort of talisman, her wary eyes focused on the glowing ball in Xander's hands. "I think you are making a very responsible decision," Giles was saying in a lecture-like tone to Spike, who's attention was primarily focused on Buffy. Buffy stood close enough to Spike that to get any closer, she'd have to be inside his skin.

"It's going to be fine," Xander said comfortingly, "Willow has this. And look," he gestured to the glowing globe in his hands, "Shiny."

Spike snorted. "Brilliant. Put my soul in his capable hands." Buffy shook her head slightly, the hand grasping Spike's tightening enough for her knuckles to go white. "Shiny," Spike muttered, his free hand ghosting over their joined hands. He was nervous about this whole thing too, though he would never freely admit it.

Xander looked at the couple's joined hands and sighed inwardly. They really needed each other. They were in love, of course, but there was something very tangible in the air around them whenever they were together. Like they had some hyper-awareness of each other. Even when they were arguing, you could practically see the bond they had pulling them together.

Xander shook his head, gathering himself to help Willow with the spell. She smiled up at him from behind her red hair, her eyes alive with curiosity and excitement over the magicks involved. With a quick turn of his head, Xander could see Giles still lecturing to the couple immersed in their own silent emotionally communication. Giles was a little greyer, a little more frayed around the edges since his return from England, but he was here, and that was what really mattered. The whole gang, involved in something probably way bigger than they could probably dream of at the moment.

Xander smiled. Everything was alright. It was the way it should be. And the gods only knew what tomorrow would bring.

"I'm ready when you guys are," Willow announced.

**_The End (More or less)_**

_ OK, first off I want to thank everyone who's put up with me while I got this beastie done. I know I had a painfully long hiatus, and anyone who is still reading this has the patience of a saint. I hope this ending doesn't disappoint - and of course, if anyone out there with a flair for writing wants to adopt my little story and write the sequel, feel free to PM me. I can pretty much guarantee my permission. I won't be writing the sequel, on account of having a number of other stories out there that need finishing, and because my school work is trying to drown me. I hope you've all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it._**_  
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